OsX86 on PC

1. Use iATKOS 4i (10.5.4)
-Set volume as MBR via Disk Utility
-NO Customization, install Leopard
2. Install NVKush.
3. Get some sort of PList editor (PList Edit Pro or Util from XCode).
-Edit info.plist from within NVKush.kext (show pkg contents)
-Use this NVCAP (drill down the top pane, not the XML bottom):
04000000 00000100 02000000 00000000 00000000
-Drop info.plist right back into nvkush
4. Open terminal, then:
Sudo chown -R 0:0 \path to\nvkush.kext
Sudo chmod -R 755 \path to\nvkush.kext
5. Reboot
After, to dual-boot: find “chain0″ file, drop it in c:\ of xp, add in boot.ini c:\chain0=”OsX86”

nothing funny

their laughter is ultimately a daunting thing: i can only listen, not watch, only listen. and there is something terrible about that, to be some far removed but longing to be within that laughter. i can only listen and not bare to watch because they in turn would see me. they would see that there is nothing funny about me at all.

Forwarding without FW From

Forward incoming emails to pager with proper subject
(Last modified: 14Jan2005)
This document (10096188) is provided subject to the disclaimer at the end of this document.
goal
Forward incoming emails to pager with proper subject
fact
GroupWise 6.5
symptom
Forwarded email messages show on pager as “from: user@domain.com” which is the sender’s userID/domain and the subject shows “Forwarded by user” instead of the subject of the actual email.
cause
GWIA forwards the original message as an attachment changing the subject line to “Forwarded by user”
fix
1. Add the following lines if not present to GWIA.CFG:
/ATTACHMSG
/FLATFWD
2. Unload and restart GWIA.

roast

we dream of angry welts and children with bitter skulls. I will have all of it, she said and shoveled handfuls of ripped nipples still sore and twitching from new born babies resilient and faithfully callous. and the men watched sipping martinis from a bygone age where they played the saxophone with hands twice the size of janitors and the girls sashayed across ballroom floors still slick with last night’s meal. he cooed into her ear, you should come here more often. she laughed, honey i cum whenever i please.

a resigned chill

everyday seems a sticking point: you cannot move forward and you cannot change what’s happened. she says to me in the dark, touching my brow, what happened? i lie, staring at the tv screen, late night amnesia, late night stupor. outside summer heat has broken into a resigned chill: fall is coming and nothing got accomplished.

Nathan Carlson has barely slept

Horrifying coincidence in beheading
By ANDREW HANON
(taken from the edmunton sun)
Nathan Carlson has barely slept since July 30.
“Ever since it happened, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head,” Carlson says haltingly. “I just don’t know what to think of it, quite frankly.”
The Edmonton ethno-historian is one of the world’s leading experts on Windigo phenomenon, and the recent horrific beheading and alleged cannibalism on a Greyhound bus bound for Winnipeg from Edmonton rocked him to his very core.
As the grisly details of Tim McLean’s last moments on Earth came to light in the following days, Carlson sank deeper and deeper into a fog of horror and revulsion.
Vince Weiguang Li is accused of abruptly attacking McLean, who by all accounts he didn’t even know — while McLean slept on the bus.
Up until a few days before the killing, Li held a part- time job delivering newspapers in Edmonton. He was well thought-of by his boss and considered a nice guy, if a bit quiet and shy.
On July 20 — just 10 days before the killing — Li delivered copies of the Sun that contained an extensive interview with Carlson about his research into the Windigo, a terrifying creature in native mythology that has a ravenous appetite for human flesh. It could take possession of people and turn them into cannibalistic monsters.
The two-page feature talked about how, in the late 1800s and into the 20th century, Windigo “encounters” haunted communities across northern Alberta and resulted in dozens of gruesome deaths.
In one case, a Cree trapper named Swift Runner was hanged after admitting to killing and eating his wife, children, brother and mother in the woods northeast of Edmonton in the winter of 1878-79.
Prior to being charged with murder, he had suffered screaming fits and nightmares, which he attributed to being possessed by a Windigo.
In several other cases, people banded together and killed individuals they feared were possessed by a Windigo. Often, they would decapitate the corpse and bury the head separate from the body in order to keep it from rising from the dead.
Carlson documented several cases in northern Alberta communities where people believing they were “turning Windigo” would go into convulsions, make terrifying animal sounds and beg their captors to kill them before they started eating people.
In last month’s bus case, Li allegedly butchered McLean’s body, brandishing the victim’s severed head at the men who trapped him on the bus until police could arrive.
He was later accused of eating McLean’s flesh.
When he appeared in a Portage La Prairie courthouse on charges of second-degree murder, the only words Li reportedly uttered were pleas for someone to kill him.
A lot of his reported behaviour eerily mirrors the Windigo cases recounted in the newspaper feature that Li helped deliver to Edmonton homes just days before McLean was killed, one of the most gruesome slayings in modern Canadian history.
Several media reports called McLean’s killing unprecedented – an unspeakable, random attack the likes of which has never been seen in Canada.
But Carlson knows better.
“There are just too many parallels,” he says.
“I can’t say there’s definite connection, but there are just too many coincidences.
“It’s beyond eerie.”

gilby’s

we become disentangled in the rain. it pours. in the bar he says, lean closer to me above the noise of empty chairs and rattling windows. i drew him with shades of logic and mayhem and we barreled through the night like angry boys happy to be free of our mothers’ ceaseless worrying and our father’s heavy boots.

skin cell

always always behind behind behind, i barely keep up. disconnected and disenfranchised, horrible poker nights and completely lost to my children. she says to me, i cannot keep you prisoner in your own home. doesn’t she see it’s the skin that’s my prison, my very own skin?

single malt

the better part of days and weeks are imagined corpuscles of knowledge buried deep within the skin like ants breeding buffalo and other magnificent expositions of extinction. this event like no other hand scratching at the wrist of this progression into her night and her many many accoutrement of self denial and men lingering for one spittle more. he says to me in the bar, why don’t we ever talk like this, we don’t we ever talk like friends? i find myself smashed into telephone conversations that i barely make out what she says to me while staring straight into the headlights of oncoming traffic. laughter rumbles through my rib cage and i gleefully spit out my teeth.