My first look at Python was an accident, and I didn't much like what I saw at the time. It was early 1997, and Mark Lutz's book Programming Python from O'Reilly & Associates had recently come out. O'Reilly books occasionally land on my doorstep, selected from among the new releases by some mysterious benefactor inside the organization using a random process I've given up trying to understand.
One of them was Programming Python. I found this somewhat interesting, as I collect computer languages. I know over two dozen general-purpose languages, write compilers and interpreters for fun, and have designed any number of special-purpose languages and markup formalisms myself. My most recently completed project, as I write this, is a special-purpose language called SNG for manipulating PNG (Portable Network Graphics) images. Interested readers can surf to the SNG home page at http://www.tuxedo.org/~esr/sng/. I have also written implementations of several odd general-purpose languages on my Retrocomputing Museum page, http://www.tuxedo.org/retro/.
I had already heard just enough about Python to know that it is what is nowadays called a "scripting language", an interpretive language with its own built-in memory management and good facilities for calling and cooperating with other programs. So I dived into Programming Python with one question uppermost in my mind: what has this got that Perl does not?
Perl, of course, is the 800-pound gorilla of modern scripting languages. It has largely replaced shell as the scripting language of choice for system administrators, thanks partly to its comprehensive set of UNIX library and system calls, and partly to the huge collection of Perl modules built by a very active Perl community. The language is commonly estimated to be the CGI language behind about 85% of the "live" content on the Net. Larry Wall, its creator, is rightly considered one of the most important leaders in the Open Source community, and often ranks third behind Linus Torvalds and Richard Stallman in the current pantheon of hacker demigods.
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Anonymous2009-03-24 11:32
The first anime I ever saw was "Revolutionary Girl Utena" the movie. I was attracted to it because it was bizarre and new. It hit me at a vulnerable time; my father and mother had just been murdered. I became obsessed with the "emptiness inside" theme of the movie, and felt that this related to my life somehow. I watched Evangelion next, and absolutely loved the depressing feeling both of these shows left me with. I am a person who loves depressions; I feel that I am at my most creative and "raw" when utterly depressed. The empty feeling these shows gave me filled me with emotions I wanted to recapture.
Like an addict seeking another hit, I kept downloading more and more programs, watching tons of shows. At one point, I had two shoeboxes full of CD-r's packed with Anime programs. I had a library of just about every show ever made. I became obsessive, but I wasn't finding that feeling that was originally there. Sure, I could recapture it with great stuff like Serial Experiments: Lain and Millenium actress, but that was only for a moment.
Eventually, I stopped watching the shows I was downloading, but just grabbed them for the sake of having them. I had to have more. I bought DVD's and didn't watch them. Gradually, over time, I felt my aesthetic become warped. What once was strange and bizarre looking character design became familiar; I sought it out. If I caught a glimpse of an anime style character in real life, I felt a rush; almost as if my hindbrain saw it before I was aware of it. I was visiting a Japanese tea Garden and saw real life schoolgirls in the familiar navy blue fuku uniforms. I was fascinated by them; I was drawn, attracted, but not in a sexual way; it blew my mind to see something in real life that I had before seen only in the abstract.
A familiar feeling came through me when I saw them. I felt the same at that moment as when I had first seen Utena, when I had first finished Evangelion. My obsession took a new direction.
I bought several sailor fuku uniforms from online retailers. J-list was too expensive and didn't sell in the size I desired. I had to have the legitimate stuff. At first it was satisfying to just look at the uniforms. I would keep them clean, iron them, and hang them up every day. The ritual was soothing to me.
Sooner or later I had to do it. I had to wear the uniforms I had treasured. I am proud to report that it took me a few months to break down, to really cross the threshold into utter depravity. After that line had been crossed, though, there was no going back. Tentatively, I started by simply wearing the uniforms around the house. I would wake up very early, before anyone could glimpse at me from outside on the street, and simply do my cleaning and cooking wearing the various uniforms I purchased. I got a matching apron. I would pretend I was getting ready for Japanese High school.
Soon, though, wearing the uniform in private was not enough. I purchased a duster trenchcoat and began walking through town wearing my outfit. Nobody knew, and this made me comfortable. But, again, this soon became insufficient to satisfy my obsession.
I began stalking this girl I knew, Sarah. I checked out her routines; when she left for work, when she got back, what time she went to bed. At first I furtively ventured into her place with my uniform under my trench coat while she was away. I knew where her spare key was because I had helped her move earlier. Speaking of this, I'm a pretty beefy guy. I weigh around 240-260 pounds, but I'm not that tall. A great friend to have if you need to move.
Anyway, gradually, I became more comfortable in her apartment. I started doing stuff like rolling around in her bed, stealing her underwear and putting it in little plastic bags, soforth. As you would expect, I became more and more comfortable doing this, and crossed a line. She came home unexpectedly one day, early from work. Panicked, I hid under the bed in my uniform. Immediately, as she came through the door, she spotted my trench coat. Lying under her bed, the sound of my heavy breathing seemed a thousand times louder than it actually was. I could hear her rooting through the trench coat, and could hear the wrinkling of celophane as she found my empty plastic bags. Thank god they didn't yet have her used underwear in them.
I put my sweaty, meaty hands together and prayed.
I heard her walking around the apartment. Thankfully, she didn't bring anyone with her. My mind was flashing; the excitement had triggered my epilepsy. Suddenly, I was barraged with memories from my first anime program, revolutionary girl utena. I heard her walking around some more, and then sit down on the bed. I saw her clothes come off and hit the floor in front of me. During this time I was controlling myself and having a minor epileptic fit. I could see transformation sequences from anime programs I had watched. It was all coming together; the near hallucinations, the girl in the bed above me, and most of all, my sweaty fuku uniform.
She approached the bathroom and got into the shower. She turned on the water. I was convinced that this was the one moment I had been searching for. This was my chance to cross over into the other world described in Utena; the fabric of reality was thin. I could taste it. In many of my anime programs I had seen the seemingly normal characters, like me, enter into a world of magic and joy.
I rolled out from under the bed and bounded into the bathroom. She saw my large form approaching through the glass of the shower and started screaming. I was having epileptic flashes; the screaming sounded just like "KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH" I was having trouble walking, my steps staggered. I couldn't feel the floor. My meaty hands slammed the shower door open, but she sprayed me with a jet of water. The water triggered another fit and I seized, falling into the bath. She tripped and fell on top of me. As she was screaming and my blood filled the bath, it swirled around reality, and intermingled in my mind. Her screams, the blood, my sweat, the uniform, Japan, schoolgirls, magic, tragedy, terror, and hope all become one to me. For one moment, I could taste it. The anime reality. It was here, like a precious jewel perched between my meaty, sweaty pectorals. And then, gone.