ALT + ` = Return; goes up in the directory tree to an overarching page.

ALT + 1 = Go left in the main HUD.

ALT + 2 = Go right in the main HUD.

ALT + . = Secondary left control, usually tethered to a secondary HUD.

ALT + / = Secondary right control, usually tethered to a secondary HUD.

ALT + SHIFT + 1 = Go up in the site registry.

ALT + SHIFT + 2 = Go down in the site registry.


On 3/22/2025, I took a little expedition to Dallas to retrieve a consignment of fish from a Southwest
Airlines cargo hold. With the individual tasking me with the journey not being savvy enough to
provide an address, and myself too inexperienced to work with his old world sequential directions,
I ended up driving around a bit, looping through and around the wrong airport for around a half
hour. The car trip was marred with a little mayhem as I was holding a folded piece of paper with no
light to see it under, attempting to secure using my wrist and thigh my phone at an angle at which
it would accept the 12V car
charger (it was at 19% battery charge), and all to the tune of glitchy ethnic electronica (middle
eastern themed while bobbing around a large airport's entrance with a gun in the car). The soup of
agitating elements inspired, before and after the resolution-bearing call for help which directed me
to Lovefield instead of DFW airport, series' of abstract thought and epiphanic arrivals to truths
pertaining to my chief interests; these being my pursuits of techno-musical efficacy and a state of
competency in programming. Now, one week later and a work shift's amount of free time away from
repeating the routine, I'm compelled to describe the various thoughts and prior-effort correvelatons
I underwent in the car between 9:15pm and 11:50 pm.

A foremost conflict when doing what I am now - working on my website - is the ergonomy of the
static webpages' flowing into one another to constitute a resource for several tasks, which, like
the webpages, can be multi-part and flow into one another. I am not complacent with discomfort in the
studio; I see physical obstruction in the real and perceived capacities as being counterbehavioral
landscaping that, if inhibitory of constructive processes, is due for levelling. Infringements to
comfort include awkward placement of devices, locational estrangement of two devices which belong
to the same operational gesture, placement of devices which render neighboring devices disadvantaged,
etc. A key area of physical frustration is the locale which houses the patchbays; while uniting
patchbays into a singular housing makes for ideal routing (once everything is connected to the rear
and sensibly organized) economy, accessing the back and addressing any inadvertent disconnections,
establishing new connections, etc. ad nauseum are made into nightmarishly unpleasant affairs. All
the un-color coded black cabling spilling like jetting sewage from the sewer pipe that is the rear
of the rack in which these bays are situated make for a garrish sight and unworkable maintenance
impasse. This predicament is to; continue compromised with some devices, usually new additions or
significant articles, disconnected and unusable; to attempt a repair of a lost connection or
implementation of a new article at the risk of breaking other routings (the human fist/dumpling hand
jabbing around the cramped black abyss with pained arthritic facial expressions, curses of self and God
with a flashlight hanging out of my mouth); or to do what I will soon, which is (gingerly) tear out
all of the cabling (including power) and redo it all. The third option is not a quick and painless
order of business; it will take a full day and involve a lot of tedium - but if successful will see
an end to various paranoias of mine; for one, the fear of cables being warped and damaged under the
stresses of the current architecture, another being a fear of subsidence at one pillar situated atop
a wooden drawer table likely tested by the load. The plan for resolution is to, during the cabling
addressment, replace the table and underlying bass pedal with a metal 12U rack which would handle
the load (less) questionably; I believe the metal racks used in the region to be somewhat weak on
account of some design choices. This would introduce more rackable realestate at the expense of the
optimal foot controller placement - another option, however, would be to simply trade the wooden table
for the metal frame industrial table rated for 200 lbs. load (which the pillar comes close to) that
is in my closet - the only problem being the legs' questionable grip of the platform. Its a matter of
trust in friction-leveraging inserts on conventional wire shelving, or woodglue / craftmanship on
a random, inappropriately used rock lamp / telephone table. Cycling back to the topic at hand, a
return at the mercy of critical mental mechanisms, I was inspired by the US' highway system to
assign numbers to destinations and implement identifiers of what paths may be upcoming. Anyone who
remembers that the goal of this project site is to aid in musical preoccupations may be questioning
the validity or necessity of adding layers of convolution to the existing structure (such is quite
popular in my experience, the disuasion of potentially equipped people to not pursue the unorthodox),
especially those lifted from transit networks; the streamlining of any multifangled, error prone
web is a warranted endeavor in my view, depending on what may be at stake - in my case, the only thing
at stake is sound information (arguing against development of unique personalized tools for the creation
of self-appeasing materials assumes that the machine is working already, which is false). What I could
gain from instituting order and current to the T-shaped passages of forced decisive arbitration is a
concept of the services' interrelationships in the use of functional path-policed lanes versus the
"click-the-hyperlink-you-realize-you-want-to-go-to-at-the-moment" arrangement that a screen like zselect
(http://www.xlaxrecords.com/zselect.html / http://192.168.1.147/zselect.html) presents. When given the
ability to teleport, possessors will neglect the journey and opportunities for serendipitous discovery;
much like I'd imagine using an AI-driven chatbot to return a generated piece of music in a specified
style would
cheat you of any attribution - you didn't dig through any preset menus, employ trial-and-error to land
on a workable percussive foundation and throw shit at the wall in order to weave a listenable tapestry,
therefore you can't be recognized for the material's attributes. I am intrigued by the potential
evolutions of music, of entertainment in the coming decades - certainly the volumes will grow and the
product will morph into something more identity-affixed.

Returning from an unsuccessful wing seeing the squandering of four hours, I attempted to extract
something along the journey, from the signage and structure of familiar but mysterious road signs
to any penetrating musical ideas from the songs I'd thumb going 70 MPH - I turned up empty in two
respects - my cabin void of cargo and head barren of excitable concepts, unless the idea to color
table backgrounds forest green in congruence with those signs counts. David's welcomed and funny jab
at the acronyms I concoct to handle concepts, usually original, is on the mind - adding more to the
color system and reserving blue and green for avenues of varying proximities to sensitive locations
within the compositional road system is, for lack of more promising ideas, the plan for the near
future. 6:55 saw dawn as I slinked in on Park Center street to deposit the sacrificial fish boxes;
7 hours and 7/10 of a gas tank for a $600 supply of fish is still coming out on top - its too bad my
$60 values those hours at $6.50 after fuel deduction. The lesson to call the cargo desk in times of
weather-centric doubt has been learned, even if its my second go-round and 0.5th time properly executing
(I needed to wake Frank up to obtain the waybill number, something the previous clerk was able to spare
me from doing). With it now possessed, subsequent one-legged ventures are to improve, and see a third of
a gas tank spared as well as a bit of dignity.