August 2003 Archives

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three circuits 1.7 1.7 1.7 three times the mountain cannot explain this i've only ever done three once before, once and then i went right back to two i remember thinking ahh i see three, no, two yes. seven years ago twenty pounds ago god knows how many packs of cigarettes ago i thought that.

there were two resons one was the inexplicable fact of the matter of needing oh so very much less air my lungs were the same it was the rest of me changed and changed almost overnight? almost. other one was the song, the one i put at the end of the cd at the time where two circuits end a slow song an old song also it is the song that i've always allowed myself to feel and to each his own it's plain to see to walk alone you have to be and in feeling the allowable feelings i found not sadness but some searing energy to power the escape on and up and fast, i go up faster each time, there's no sense to this i'm old i'm wrecked i never expected this never expected it to be ... easy. it's easy.

and the third time 'round and down it is dusky purple ocean mist breeze the light the air the music pink floyd art is everything i see and physics within, matter into energy i am feeling this molecularly and it is almost almost too much i slow to a wander entranced in rapture there are nearly tears it is too beautiful it is way way too beautiful it is innocent beautiful a miracle it is explosive beautiful ignition liftoff earth falling away it is beautiful like birth and death and the aftermath the starlight and all other things long dead which live.

i almost couldn't stop at the car forced myself fell into the seat literally bathed in sweat i mean soaking soaking wet and as the interior lights faded in the silence it was perfect and i was already mostly an orgasm and it seemed the thing to do ease the seat back unbutton the buttons slide my hand down i mean i was already completely engaged in the process of arousal it was sex before i started it and by the time i finished it oh right out loud and bursts of color convulsing pulsing energy it was fission it was fusion it was blinding it was birth and death and the aftermath, it is an hour later now and still i am less a physical thing with mass and density than i am say the gilttering notes of a soft guitar spilling into the night sky.

(note: no it hasn't. but anyway.)

... and it went a little like this:
sunday (sigh) screw with website think about sex pop a beer realize i've still got a lot of downloading to do at allofmp3.com i mean goodgod half a gig for five bucks i'm barely half there. let's review: lonely horny melancholy beer and ... mp3s. this can't be good right?

it starts out ok i fill out a bit of my long lost rush collection and and then the related albums, the damn related albums ... from rush we hit boston, wander through bad company (!), along through foreigner (no thanks, we're pretty *ahem* well stocked there) but from there doncha know it's just a short slide down the slippery slope to journey and *whew* don't see anything here i want (oddly enough i am looking at a couple of records and knowing for a fact i wore the grooves off the vinyl versions a quarter century ago so you'd think the songs would be engraved in my brain but not even a glimmer i figure probably the engraving was fine but the brain, well...) probably best that way i pass on the journey however i do grab a little boston on the way out the way out i said, trying i'm trying well sort of it's a mighty (pathetic) struggle and ... no. nope. can't do it. i'm stuck somewhere between 1975 and 1985 and oh look! i'm even wearing the same clothes. huh. well if i've got the lowrise flares and the platforms what's to stop me from feathering my hair? haven't done a full-blown farrah flip in a long, long time. (the full five minutes i sat here staring into space between these two sentences demonstrates just how far gone i am) and why not? isn't big hair retro again yet? maybe i should bring it back myself personally. screw patience let's kill something (oh yeah long lost and way gone)

don't send search parties, unless they have some kind bud, ok? and styling products.
* * * * *
in what surely must be related news, i'm number one on yahoo for slowly losing my mind on drugs. rock on!

there is an infestation of spiders here tonight. ok, two. and one of 'em isn't big enough to get a picture of. but the other one?

mmhmm, it's skinny but it's a good three times the other spider's size, and i didn't even get that close. yet. might be scrambling up on the table any minute now, i ... sigh.

and speaking of bugs, chrispy is officially found art. and offtopic yet related, i have a picture and story on 1000words.

and now i'm going to climb on the furniture with my camera.

every saturday morning they come with their machines, buzzing chopping roaring (always much too early for my taste, thank you); it is like clockwork ticking off another week, living here. in the minutes it takes to open these reluctant eyes i go skipping down the the intervals, connected to form a path through the recent past, a collection of annoying golden mornings running together and suddenly sweeter than i can bear to remember. it is the sensation of continuity, of waking knowing nothing's changed, even when that means what it's meant here, kind of a cozy blanket of stifling hopeless hurtful security. it is a weekend beginning the same as the hundred or is it hundred fifty before it in a life that's changed too often but not enough.

change. of course it is for the better but right now right this minute that doesn't matter, not when i'm sitting here and on just one of these two suddenly shaky hands i can count the number of times i'll be openening my reluctant eyes to this familiar yellow light as my sleepy head fills with grumpy thoughts and fights the noise and loses and my son comes bouncing through the room all laughing energy and against my will a quiet cheer rises through the raucous cacophony of the gardeners and their machines and i think i would endure a hell you cannot imagine if that hell meant i wasn't losing the rudely beautiful awakenings that are saturday mornings.

you didn't think i could resist, did you?

i often wish for the ability to reliably explain my self and have that work out as in message received. but no. it's always a process of fits and starts, of mistakes and retractions, of reacting to reactions that i didn't expect because the reactions reflect something i didn't mean to say in the first place. it's better with time to think, to compose, but even then, even if i take hours editing and clarifying and distilling the essesnces it's still like beaming a greeting into an alien civilization and it turns out 'greetings from earth nice to meet you' translates phonetically into the equivalent of 'your mother fucks transients for a couple swigs of night train'.

so i suppose the upside is when i'm in fullon inspired mode and not writing anything directly to anyone just expressing things generally, there is this abstract feel about it and that's been called poetic, which i've always found odd since to me it's just the most basic journalism, just me reporting the facts as i see 'em, as plain and direct as i can manage.

and there is so much more than i can say, since it must be said with these words which are of course defined by other words and all of this is contained within flat spaces, screens and pages, while these things i have to express possess additional dimensions, depth and extent that is not available within this thing we call language. sometimes i think i should have gone into physics instead, i have ideas like mulitdimensional arrays plotted in curved spacetime and illustrated in terms of spectral frequencies. i understand these things by the way they displace the living energy within me, in fact this phenomenon is the source of many things i perceive and cannot explain, you might call it an extra sense, though it isn't extraneous at all. and i can be on fire vivid eloquent and describe what i envision to perfection, and it is received as an abstraction from almost any other perspective, a symbol without a referent.

and you know, i can't complain. in the course of trying to explain i've found a truth, that is, i wouldn't have it any other way.

something in what i just attempted to express has resonance in this, in a way, not one i can explain:

what it is

there's a purpose, there's a goal,
there's a virtuos, and immoral,
there's a reason for all of this,
and I don't know what it is

I am one, and plural too,
I accept them but they exclude,
I could make sense of all of this,
but I don't know what it is

the seeds of inspiration never germinated in my mind,
the beacon of awakening is somewhere that I can't find, so
I don't know what it is

there's a beginning, and there's an end,
there's a climax, some would contend,
there's a way to signify this,
but I don't know what it is

~greg graffin, bad religion

i'll have some of what he's smoking, please.

[via Deborah]

**
also:
i feel selfconscious and weirdinabadway posting this here. it needs clicking, in case that isn't readily apparent. aside from that i cannot explain, not the thing itself, nor my posting of it. but here it is anyway.

** oi' where's the fucking bar john!

there is approximately one thing in my life that isn't wretchedly stressful right now, and that's being not-fat for the first time in years and years. screw health benefits, screw appearances, what's really fun about this is buying pants. i love to buy little pants. now finances are one of the biggest stresses i've got, but i still manage to shop every week. this week it was four pairs of pants: 1 pr. low rise stretch khakis (express), 1 pr. flowery beachy low-rise capris (mossimo), 1 pr. limited boot cut jeans, 1 pr. unionbay shortalls. TCO = $3.96.

yeah, i raided whatsisname's change jar to buy pants i didn't need unless you consider the sort of happiness that results from indulging in odd fixations to be a need. i do, especially in times of stress, but ... well, i can name at least one person who vehemntly disagrees (and does so in a tone of voice usually reserved for the discovery of dogshit on shoes).

i am going to really enjoy getting away from that tone of voice. i wonder if its echoes will ever fade completely away, though, it's gotten so he can be berating me without even knowing he's doing it, or even what i've done to deserve it.

dammit. that does need to stop, doesn't it? well, i'll be needing more change, the only way to deal with this sort of thing is keep shopping the 99

... the ones you see, and the ones you don't see.

i'm seeing this one, yes i am. he is making his way across the wall in front of me at ceiling level. my camera had killed its batteries and reset itself to just hq images, and so i was on 640×480 when he was at my level. whatsisname says "don't climb on the table". i bet the table would hold me, he's just being an asshole. well mr. spider's almost to the corner and i can stand on a chair we know chairs hold me we won't even ask about the chair will we, no sir these are my fears i'm determined to face them.

now you see, that was two, two, two fears in one. heights and spiders. i'm still scared witless but i can get the macro mode to focus better than this, however making my hands not shake is another matter entirely. i'm goin' back up there though.

ok. this is standing on the arm of a couch with one very wobbly leg (the couch, not me, my legs wanted to wobble but i wouldn't let 'em), balancing with one hand on a wobbly bookcase, extending my arm almost all the way out, and don't forget the double fearwhammy thang i had going.


my hair is crawling my skin is standing on end. oh man. i wanted to kill him, but at some point it began to seem ... rude. and i kept trying to get better shots, better focus, even though in zoom/macro, handsteadiness really matters and i was getting worse, not better. after the last batch, well, he vanished, last seen right over my couch heading south. which is fine i wasn't planning on sleeping ... ever.

it works again! remmeber, you can get the user interface that does the uploads and thumbnails and makes a page like this, plus random quotes and random images, at thelizard.us. go on now you know you want it.

also i felt like uploading the large version of that big ole wowflower picture. it came out of the camera just like this (click for the 1600 x 1200):

another lizard. i'll update when i get the random images/galleries/quotes dealymathinger done ok, the random images - quotes - gallery is zipped up. i haven't tested to make sure this zipfile has all the right stuff yet, but it's there, i hope someone downloads it and plays with it. also, there is a stats thing which i'm just kinda playing with, to see what i can see, you can sign up and use it for free! thelizard.us is my resources page, i'll be doing all kinds of resourceful stuff there.

* * *
ok, it's been awhile since i've had referrer logs, and i had forgotten just how much fun they can be. #3 for lizard furry sex. and if i'm not a furry sex lizard, well, then, i don't know.
* * *
got lost in the other results. herpetophile. mmhmm.

the day drifts down mean to its own end and bitterly settles into memory. i drift into this dazed sense of ennui punctuated by spikes of fight or flight like whitehot sparks. and more and more i find i'm defined by the pinholes this leaves burnt into my consciousness, and yes there is a pattern, a loop slowly closing in on itself. and what am i doing while being undone by some recursive reference? well, at the moment, not a fucking thing. to calculate why, you would need some numbers, as in years spent relentless against this error, raised to the power of all the things i lost in the process divided by the things that passed by while i was incapacitated by the futility. divide the answer by the sum of my past, then subtract the resulting percentage from what i have left of this life, and maybe you'll understand when i say i'd rather accept this decaying orbit and its inevitably messy ending than waste any more of my self struggling against it.

i just want less loss.

so. the duplex i live in went on the market, what was that a week ago? and it sold, sight unseen, for five hundred fifty thousand dollars. the new owners are coming for a walk through in an hour.

direct quote from whatsisname "well at least i cleaned the refrigerator". um, huh? i guess that's like, really important on his planet.

seven twenty, arrived at mountain, parked and spent an angry angry ten minutes berating the innocent cds in my car for not being the ones i wanted them to be; departed the car still in a hell of a huff with an old whining playlist of doom spinning and me too, me too. …we hit the blue fields in the blue sedan we didn't get much further just as the sun was rising in the mist we were all alone we didn't need much more… hit the hill, hill doesn't fuck around tries to kill ya straight off …i'm going to miss you, yes i will, no matter who you are i love you still, oh my life is my conscience, the seeds i sow, i just wanted to let you know… i have to catch my breath at the gate i stand on the edge the very dizzy edge …perfect water, i dream this dream within the warm gulf stream where two blocks of ice melt into my hands like dice and I roll seven on the floor of the sea and I feel the perfect water washing over me… on upward and up and up and the last hundred yards to the top i turn my eyes downward focus on the footfalls one more one more one more …hold on, baby hold on, cause it's closer than you think and you're standing on the brink, hold on baby hold on, there is something on the way your tomorrow's not the same as today… the top the top the top oh yes …a soul in tension that's learning to fly condition grounded but determined to try can't keep my eyes from the circling skies tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, i… leveling out stretching out letting the ocean breeze push the air into my lungs, i head out to the end and the water fountain and the view and if you are high enough this does change the horizon …sun come up, sun go down, hear the feet see the sweat on the ground watch your step, keep your cool though you can't see what's in front of you… beyond the islands the sea changes completely where the continent ends some twenty six miles out, above it a ribbony cloud and i think jet stream? no that's not it but it reminds me of that funny song by kip somebody about fish, where he takes his stingray to the mechanic and the mechanic says looks like you blew a seal and he says leave my personal life out of this …accepting all i've done and said i want to stand and stare again till there's nothing left out, oh it remains in your eyes whatever comes and goes… swinging into the downhill rhythm blissful not so much walking as dancing thinking good cd choice i need this i need to feel and feel and …i couldn't taste it i'm tired and naked i don't know what i'm hungry for i don't know what i want anymore… and i feel that yes that song knows me only too well and i feel …too many hands on my time too many feelings too many things on my mind when i leave i don't know what i'm hoping to find when i leave i don't know what I'm leaving behind… and then i am done with the mountain but no i am nowhere near done …oh you speak to me in riddles and you speak to me in rhymes my body aches to breathe your breath, your words keep me alive, and i would be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard, i'll take your breath away… and i decide to do palm street crazy steep crazy just down and back quick (ow) crazy street …she said "i'm fine, i'm okay" cover up your trembling hands there's indecision when you know you ain't got nothing left when the good times never stay and the cheap thrills always seem to fade away when will we fall when will we fall down… thirsty thirsty gatorade in the buick i search the shapes of the cars is that mine no the headlights are round mine are ... what are they? oh there she is she's the next car and who cares what lights thirst thirst and drink deep and need more miles, i am nowhere near done …sayin

do not pull me over and make me show you my poetic license. my style is journalistic but it is not journalism. sometimes, some things get to inventing their ownselves. there are reasons, or not.

and sometimes i really wonder. why. i mean really. wonder. and really, no idea the answer.

it might be as simple as whatever, or as complicated as because.

... is remembered
fondly and also with
incredible regret and
without whatever was
taken
forsaken lost
dismissed
and
or
forgotten
in other
words, most
of whatever it
might have been and
everything it meant even if
that wasn't anything
really

still, it
was perfect
as far as the
imagination could
manage and beyond
that, understand:

nothing unreal ever
ever
ends

... was dreamt in a
dozen thousand
words first then
set loose in
lives, words without
restraint sent unrepentant
and as consequences go how
these were unforseen is
beyond the scope of
apology, ironically
there are no words to
repair whatever those
words flayed wide
open or any of
many subsequent
losses
one of which
is
trust
and
words fail
me here but words
do not betray
people, people do,
and in the process
the damages go
beyond
and indeed the words
themselves were
damaged,
for what went
unwritten was
something else
entirely, and
that is all i
will say, i
have done
enough
already

... and i would add that
just knowing trusting
isn't anything by
itself and by
alone i mean only
knowing ones ownself
in relation to some thing
else which will
never be, maybe,
and this means
it is merely
a theory as
far as that
goes, and it does
go on about
the business of
spin and yes
indeed i was
spinning then
only just
spun into time
out of mind
out of time
and why? well
you see what it
isn't is
real, that's all,
aside from
that it is
intense it
is perfect it
makes sense well
from some perspective at
least, it must, though
this makes no
difference and so
mostly i just
know and i know that
i know and lately i
can hardly stand this
knowing

... and the air was still a
seduction but also somehow
soothing and out in it i sensed i'd find
balance of some sort, some odd
sort really since this
particular balance is defined by
desire, its edges all aglow and then
of course there is that
searing sunburst just like
the instant the
eclipse ends and so
i will wear my glasses
darkly and only focus on
other lightsources, these things i promise
myself, not expecting much knowing
what i know about my
willpower where astonishingly dangerous
brilliance is concerned, yes
i will stare myself blind on a
whimsical impulse and
as those go this is
so much more
than i imagined, this is
to impulsive whimsy as time is
to the time of this life,
mine, that is to say, this is
as the unimaginable is
to the insignificant, this is
as the sense this makes
fades into the fact that yes, i am
indeed propelled through this and
yes i do trust in its purpose and
its vision and yes this does guide me
in times of blindness, and no
i am not sure if this is
one of those times, or if
it is not.

my daughter lives in a hotbed of subversivity.

all that glitters is ... my daughter:

radical bumperstickers, peaceful garden. sigh. perfect roommates.

and they totally had a big ole wowflower out there too:

and i broke my gallery page. because i was woozytired and my new text editor is busily sucking my ass just not the way i like it and therefore ... it's broke. and i'm going to beddybye. i'll fix it, don't worry.

first there was the random quotes/images thingy i wrote. then there was a need for galleries, so i built it in to the same interface. it uploads the random images, it uploads *and thumbnails* the gallery pictures and generates the viewable gallery. it's what serves up the futurama quotes on the lyricbase, and, well, i don't use the random images but they're there.

getting people to download and play with this thing hasn't been as easy as you'd think. i've almost got the full gallery version ready to go, please let me know if you're interested -- you need PHP and MySQL on your server, GD libs must be compiled with PHP (fairly standard) and you should be able to twidget with a simple config file. it does all the rest.

so? wanna?

not a record by any means, but still. so many messes to clean up. so not very much time but enough, definitely enough. well, has to be enough, more or less.

opened up a can o' whoop ass this morning, breakfast not necessary was back to the sleep-eating thing last night, maybe preparing for the fact i went ahead and said whether any of the rich people in chris's life buy the place we live in, that i plan on making the sixty day notice we received my own personal moveout date. october fifteenth.

we forgot the sunglasses with the flames on them, so we have to return to the barberplace soon, well, soon as we recover from the scare on the way back [law enforcement six o'clock dive! dive! (right turn clyde) shitfuck (breathe breathe) ok he went straight (whew)] gotta get that damn buick registrated. butfirst it's gotta be smogalized and boy howdy does that cost money. ok not that much but still. school supplies. spongebob backpack complete with cellphone holder (?). wiggly eyes (99

so i'm sitting listening to keep talking and i'm swept up in the brilliance, marveling over the fact stephen hawking's doing the voiceover, on this song on this album about communication & did you know douglas adams named the album, the division bell -- it's what they ring when parliament is deadlocked. pink floyd. stephen hawking. douglas adams. this is the sort of convergence of brilliance that gets me so hot you have no idea. no idea.

so i was googling for lyrics of a song i hadn't even found to download, and i ran across allofmp3.com. yes, that's russian, but look at the top, there's a little english link, click it, there you go. now they have the free downloads and soforth, however to have all access it will cost you. yes, it will cost you a whole penny a megabyte. or subscribe and get up to a THOUSAND songs a month, paying for bandwidth, basically. QUOTED FROM THEIR SITE. GO LOOK FOR YOURSELVES. All the materials in the MediaServices projects are available for distribution through Internet according to license # LS-3М-02-36 of the Russian Multimedia and Internet Society. Under the license terms, MediaServices pays license fees for all the materials subject to the Law of the Russian Federation "On Copyright and Related Rights". All the materials are available solely for personal use and must not be used for further distribution, resale or broadcasting.

cool.

included in the more text is a story from a long time ago, six years, yet another example of lizards touching my life, which i've included here so it can be part of dotlizard's archives, as it should be.

yet another lizard: my friend m.b. (who i haven't seen in years, and miss, and should call) is an incredible artist. she is also the source of my philosophy 'life is for living hair is for dyeing'. and at one point, she employed me as an assistant, and i helped make this papier-mâchè lizard, which adorns the ceiling of wild planet, which is a record head store shop type of place downtown (she also painted the place):

and wild planet is for lease, if you're interested:

in other, non-lizard related news, the far right lunatic fringe is alive and well in our fair city:

see that puff of smoke in the distance? that's my only hope. the landlord's selling the property the house has to be inspectable by tomorrow it's a mess have i mentioned the mess? and it's only me to clean it.

so if the wind picks up and goes in the absolutely opposite direction of normal and the brushfire spreads like wildfire and takes out the house? that would be okay. not the whole neighborhood, i just need a good stray ember. i'm ready. i can get my computer out the door in seconds. i know just what i'd grab in case of fire. i am prepared.

bring it on.

after an afternoon in valley heat, i could hear the beach calling. click image for larger view, and accept please my humble apologies for some of the filesizes)

the surfers were surfing. i was screwing with the white balance.

the breeze was blowing under a colorful sky. what color, you wonder? well, the ones on the left are closer, but then again you could turn any direction and have completely different light, it was ... amazing.

the sun was setting

for reference, here are some long-ago (february-march 2002) pictures taken in and around the driftwood structure out at surfer's point:


it's a constantly changing, evolving piece of public art/entertainment, apparently. these pictures are unretouched, the color not fuzzled with atall, i just happened to be there during a rather spectacular example of sunsetting

but there are lotsa shiny things in the parking lot:



realize that when you're doing stuff like taking pictures of yourself in the rims of trucks and porsches and in windows and stuff? people look at you funny. probably it's why i do it, at least part of the reason.

i used to carry this around with me in a notebook, long lost. most of it i'd memorized, but i needed the whole thing, so i ordered a 99¢ copy of 'the franchise' by peter gent (a novel about football, same author as north dallas forty, which i also read) just for this.

this is an old, old story - posted to an egroup i used to belong to, then on the old green/purple version of surreally, and then just reading about a a few ants here and there, somehow brought all this back.

look - i used to do capital letters. huh.

mac killed my inner child. bahahaha. hahahahaha. heeee. *snork*

via dodd

of course, there are those who think all that old testament smiting and stuff was because god didn't have a mac. hey, i'm all about both sides of the story here. via christine.

so you know that scene in a fish called wanda where kevin klein gives his armpit a good sniffing before he jumps on jamie lee curtis?

yeah.

my mp3 collection: the top ten

tool 230:19
yes 208:50
kansas 114:59
bad religion 102:18
nirvana 97:42
pink floyd 97:33
pinching judy 96:03
rush 76:11
meat puppets 61:03
john denver 54:07

oh. and the tool? that's just tonight. i had a little binge, shall we say. it's closer to two-fifty with all the live performances with other people included.

By Thursday, May 1, growing weak and having passed through stages of depression, hope, and prayer, Ralston decided he would have to break his arm near the wrist to extricate himself. "I was able to first snap the radius," he calmly recalled, "and then, within a few minutes, snap the ulna at the wrist, and from there I had the knife out and applied the tourniquet and went to task. It was a process that took about an hour."

i, um ... life is wonderful. no problem. none whatsoever.

back in the in shape days i wore almost nothing but sleeveless things (once i think a boss mentioned something about the sleevelessness but i grumbled something about my second amendment rights and finally he got it and laughed and that was that) and then it got to the point in the almost housebound fat days i'd wear only sleeved things, no matter what. and so i had forgotten the feeling of wandering around on a summer evening in a light cotton sundress just barely buttoned and the breeze in my hair on my bare shoulders.

and the thing at the mall still rocks my world.

only i don't remember quite which settings.

this is the full size liquorstore pic, just as it came out of the camera
**and there are hacks (other hacks in the more text)**
There is a trick to enable an undocumented extra Macro Mode for the C-2020Z (i kinda think it works on mine too.) It allows the camera to get clear focus at 2 to 3 inches distance from the camera. Patrick Timlin has explained the trick as follows:
1. Turn on the LCD to monitor focus.
2. Put camera in Macro Mode.
3. Put camera to full zoom.
4. Tap the wide button (on the camera or the remote) a few (about 4) times. On the first tap the lens will move a noticeable amount but the following taps hardly move the lens at all and the image will come into clear focus.
5. Now the camera can be adjusted to the wide lens direction and the focus remains clear.
all of these secret camera hacks are from the astronogeek community, apparently this is their camera of choice. i can't tell you how hard this rocks. i was bummed when i read the reviews that the macro mode sucked, but then, well, this is pretty close, hmm?

and, from a little further away, ...

reporter: can you define 'bad day' for us, lizard?
lizard: why yes, you, you wretched, weeping pustule on the assend of mankind. my definition of a bad day is when the new camera comes and you say, and i quote, 'eh'.
reporter: whassamatter, can't figure out all the fancy buttons?
lizard: oh shut up.
these are very, very, very bad. i could do so much better if it hadn't taken me an entire set of batteries just to find all the menus and stuff. and then when i started taking pictures i forgot to use the options, which i still don't have any idea what they are, just where they are, and i just ... i don't know. i can't think.
   
 
this was on the card in the camera: