“Our logic is full of holes...
I can see the bubbles.”
This part of the website is dead. It is kept online both as a public record and as a dreadful warning. For current content, please consult the root of this domain.
void* Randomness ( )
/* How are you gentlemen? All your James Joyce are belong to us! */
/* April 30, 2002 */
/* I didn't think my life could fall to bits much more comprehensively. But I was wrong. Just scroll down. Keep scrolling. */
/* A thousand curses be upon hard disc manufacturers, and upon their children, and their children's children. May their feet blister, their noses grow, and all their hair fall out. May their Porsches turn into Skodas overnight; and all their caviar into strawberry mousse.

Yep, I'm annoyed again.

Woke up this morning (no, Sirs and Mesdames, not the first line of a song) to find the PC (Mum's, not mine), displaying "Your hard disk may have bad sectors. Press any key to run scandisk on those drives." Icky American ks. But I digress.

So I pressed space. Ran a surface scan.

Two hours pass, and an error: "Cluster damaged. Click 'Fix' to move the data to an undamaged portion." Click Fix. "This could not be done due to physical damage to the disk." Shit. Click OK. Box comes up endearingly titled "Hardware failure imminent."


So I'm trying to back up stuff onto the internet via FTP. Except that every so often, the hard disc goes klunk-whirrrrr and starts to rattle and the computer freezes up. I don't think it's a software problem, because when I hit the side of the case it sometimes starts it spinning properly again. Then, after a restart:

Detecting IDE drives....

Primary Master: None
Primary Slave: None
Secondary Master: CDROM (some nasty driver ID)
Secondary Slave: None

Ooops. After turning it off for about a minute and turning it back on, it's back.... taking this in for HDD replacement tomorrow. I hope.

But that's all I need in my current state of mind. One neurotic coder; one neurotic computer.

Ironic, no? */
/* April 29, 2002 */
/* My belief in irony as the fundamental force of life remains undiminished, and indeed has been augmented by recent events.... how all things do conspire against me, and so forth. I've got a mathematical basis of Quantum Theory based on the concept of irony, and it answers one of the many questions surrounding the branch of physics: how many kinds of fundamental particles are there?

The answer is simple: There is always either one more or one less than the current fashionable theory predicts.

I'll post the full theory when I have the inclination. Am feeling a bit bad at the moment, due to the fact the relationship between my kinda girlfriend (nothing's simple in this life) and I has been forcibly and comprehensively fucked up by circumstances pretty much entirely beyond our control. Hence the irony. And if anyone who knows me personally is reading this, then you can probably spot the supreme irony. So much of the univese is funny.

I have had a complaint that I don't write enough on here. There is a reason for that; whereas I spend a lot of the time depressed, it's a kind of mediocre everyday depression that is not really suited to writing long and sarcastic essays about. My heart is heavy for most of the time when it isn't broken; there's no spite in that, no anger, no entertainment value, just a deep gentle caring melancholy that I can't show to anyone else, especially those I do care about. If anyone has suggestions as to how I can deal with this apparent paradox, please leave a comment below... I can't cope any more.

So I'm drowning my sorrows in bad Japanese Pop Music, and code.... and if possible I'm more confused than ever before. But my resolve is strong, and my will is of iron (or at least some hard and possumly metallic material). In about 26 days, I'll end my current lifestyle; I'll last in limbo for a month, and then I'm leaving. And then I'll send that one e-mail to put the ironic cap on this whole episode. Someone told me that it's obvious when you love someone; that it can be told from the way you look at them, the way you speak to them, the way you touch them.

Apparently I'm not obvious.

Anyway, it's too late for happy endings now. Even the technically best case, receiving an e-mail back when I leave saying something like "Rob, you silly bastard, come home" (which won't happen, let's face it), would also be the funniest and the most heartbreaking.

She won't read this, will the cause and concern of my general heartache; blessed irony. For ever and ever amen. Blessed are the blessed. Monstrous are the monstrous.

I have to get out of here. */
/* {update: comments are now back}

I'm strange!

How much of a freak are you?

/* Eeek! I've broken Chaos Astrology (that link works until tonight). Sorry, all, will fix later when I've got home.

This is also due to the hard disc disappearance that caused this and maggot16 to disappear for an hour or so last night.... */
/* So. I spent most of today helping a friend with his Physics Coursework (rockets), then setting up laptops for this same person.

Dominant emotion is still depression. Are you surprised? No.

And lots of IT coursework.

Oh kedgeree.

{note: I've had to remove comments for the moment due to a hard disc failure.} */
/* April 28, 2002 */
/* Music: Krezip - Nothing Less

And the dominant emotion for today? Surprise. Such surprise that I almost fell off my chair.

The cause of this surprise? A lucky guess, Sir. Or deduction, if you look at it another way. To whit, I was talking about love to somebody, and they said "Is it someone I know", and I said yes, and they said is it <name> and I fell over.

Well bugger me, if you will pardon the metaphor (for that is all it is. Definitely). Bugger me with a fishfork. */
/* April 26, 2002 */
/* I'm depressed.

I want to write, to cry, to scream; but I have no words, no tears, no voice.

Help me, please. Egotism alert... */
/* Today I fiddled with someone's ISDN line and got it to work; for this I got 10, which I immediately went out and spent on the Old Friends Boxed Set by Simon and Garfunkel (the track list on Amazon is wrong btw). I've been listening to it ever since. It's wonderful.

Also has on it 15 unreleased demos and live stuff... and it includes my four favourite songs EVER (more or less): Flowers Never Bend With The Rainfall (the one on my laptop's desktop background, for those of you who've seen it), For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her, A Poem On An Underground Wall (one of the unreleased live ones, with the best opening spiel... if I have time I'll put up a transcript ;]), and Blessed (another live one; so much darker when bereft of the folk-rock trimmings).

I love Paul Simon's songs. I just do. So hang me. */
/* "They always start with inoculous questions" (sic) - Jack on Maths exercises. */
/* April 25, 2002 */
/* Wow @ this.

Head hurts. Pissed off.

In about a month I'm probably never going to speak to the person that I think I'm at least partly still in love with (depending how depressed I am) again. That hurts. But it's probably a good thing in the long run. Staying in any way close to her would drive me totally mad; not that I'm close at the moment, and it's bad enough as it is.

My head hurts. I have a RISC PC under the bed. There's a hole in my bucket, dear Lisa......................... too many .s. */
/* These people are the best (if you have an Acorn RISC PC).

They rock.

Except they don't seem to have updated their site since '99... */
/* "This is the only message in the system that appears in green and without some kind of orchestral accompaniment."

As Chris and I were walking through the bus station, a Southern Vectis official ran immediately across our path, shouting "Beam me up scotty!".

That was my excitement for the day.
/* As regards Paul Thompson's Japanese Pop music, I am slightly worried: I could have sworn that the singer just sang:

"The cool wind on a warm summer's Jihad"

which I'm sure can't be right. */
/* April 24, 2002 */
/* Music: Pentangle - Cherry Tree Carol

OK, OK, it's sooo me to be listening to mediaeval Christmas carols in late April; but it's not as odd as my birthday bash, when I was more or less the only one sober (I don't drink), and I found myself (at two o'clock of an April morning) playing Mediaeval Christmas Carols to a seeming-appreciative audience of slightly (and more-than-slightly) pished teenagers. On an electronic Organ. Followed by playing Toccatta and Fugue (you know, the famous one) at about 3 am very loudly, lit only by a reddish-orange lamp.

Why, to quote my stepmother, does my life look like this?

I have also just managed to get one of the Just So Stories as a valid reference into my Physics coursework (no, it's not about the stretchability of elephant's trunks, it's about Mobile Telephones). A good day, almost as good as getting Winnie the Pooh into my English essay about Greek Tragedy.

Of course, getting Winnie the Pooh into Latin is just too, too, easy.

Also, got redirect2 working on the technical maggot, this being the cause and precursor of the randomised wrath I was suffering earlier. Getting messages like "Parse Error at Line 74" when all you've got is notepad which doesn't show you fucking line numbers and no PHP book and the tab key doesn't work and no icons on the desktop and a fuckwit for the sysadmin...which got me in a nice mood when some idiot decided to attack that paranoia I hold most dear by asserting that the government aren't too bad really.

Yes, people, someone really believes that.

And he didn't see the problem with people who want power, and the word civilisation no longer includes culture; or if it does it's only the kind of culture you get in the tops of yoghurts, which is furry and cures disease. In addition the world is a better place now that George W Bush is cleaning it with fire, rather than a worse one. I don't get this point at all. And I was angry and upset and this guy was the same one who somehow when I turned my back on the laptop with it in sleep mode for about 10 seconds, managed to turn up the volume and put on Purple Motion very loudly. Then looked all shocked when I turned around. "I didn't mean to!".

I also did my standard "I hate everyone" routine which he mistook as another rant and said "But why do you hate the government?" (duh.) "I don't. I hate everyone".

A good day. */
/* I wish I could be miserable properly rather than these half-arsed attempts I seem to be making at it. */
/* This site is officially illegal to access from Carisbrooke since it contains bad language. Wow. I'm offended.

I am also angry, not about this, but a general randomised anger. I hate computers. I loathe them. Really. ;) */
/* More than eight million viewers tune in to the ITV1 police drama to see Sun Hill police station burn down.

Is it just me that finds this funny? */
/* April 23, 2002 */
/* <Nodoid> If you feed chickens fish, they expand and can explode quite quickly. */
/* Everyone... (bless the both of ye), make her feel wanted :). Another friend joins the wondrous world of blogging... and Marc hasn't given up on his either! :P

This is very funny too, if you're even remotely interested in that sort of thing; to guard against eBay's taking it off, I have mirrored it here. */
/* It is a curious characteristic of these times that the obvious is seen to be profound, and the truly profound is seen to be risible.

I'll go and hide in a hole until it passes over. */
/* This is one of the funniest and somehow saddest things I've seen in a while. */
/* April 22, 2002 */
/* In Latin today, we were doing the bit in Ovid's Metamorphoses XI about the cave of sleep (lines 592-615). Apparently, many good authors have done translations, interpretations, and rewrites of this bit, because the imagery is so cinematic.

Here's my twopennorth: if a good author can do it, then surely the bad ones deserve a crack at it? Having said that, here's my (pretty bad) rip-off of Metamorphoses X.

Metamorphoses XI - The Cave of Sleep bit.

Think of it like this:

There's a green hillside, a twilight sky. A grove of poppies is growing like a beard on the landscape, down by a pool. Dark blue, stars, a clear night. A stream is quietly bubbling across the landscape, and runs through the pool. It's the only sound.

Into this walks Iris. When she moves, she leaves behind a rainbow trail of images of herself. She stops in front of the pool, and her ghosts merge into herself to make her radiant.

She leaps, headfirst, into the pool, splitting again, and the camera follows her under the dark water.

There's a cave mouth on one wall of the pool; after the obligatory swimming bit she finds it and swims through it and up. Her curving path (followed by the camera) meets the top of the water, but she keeps swimming, and leaves the water vertically. Instead, she is now swimming through dreams. Some are light, some are dark, and the effect is rather like that escher drawing with the tesselating swans. But it's in 3D and the dreams are squirming and morphing and Iris swims through them, not just shoving them out the way as Ovid suggests. A sussuration on the edge of hearing. A whispering. The dreams meet again behind her rainbow, like a fluid, like amoebas. The roof is vaulted, a cathedral to all things somnolescent. A lighting effect is evident around her. The roof and the walls are blue-tinted and a long way off.

Eventually she reaches the end, and slides out into the main cavern. The roof is again vaulted, peaking in a dome far above. Various young men are seated on wooden intricately carved seats on the edges of the room; all have long hair which is strewn over their faces. Each chair is carved differently. Some have abstract patterns, some have birds, some have stones.

In the centre of the room is an ebony couch, with a dark blue throw over it. It has constellations sewn into its pattern with stitches not of yellow thread but of fire. It hovers about eight feet off the ground, with no visible means of support. Iris walks into the room, and her sphere of light, shed onto the walls, begins to disturb the young men, who begin to stir in their sleep. She looks at the couch, shrugs, and without apparent effort rises to meet it.

There's a large man lying on it. He's fairly chunky in build, and his head is pillowed on his arms which are in turn resting on the pillows. As Iris rises, her sphere of light rises with her, and falls on him. Once, twice, thrice, his head rises and eyes half-open; but always he falls back, until finally with a seeming-great effort he props his head upon his arm. His eyes open, and he mouths the words "Why have you come?"

Iris delivers the speech that Ovid has given her. Circumlocution and litany. Somnus looks more and more tired as she goes on, until finally she has finishes. Her radiance has noticeably dimmed by now, and she yawns, looks alarmed, returns to ground level, and more or less runs out of the room.

Somnus himself looks around, and finally his eyes light on one young man who sits in a chair carved with anthropomorphic yet almost abstract patterns. His face is not visible. When Sleep's glance falls upon him his head rises; and he has no face, just a smooth visage. While his head rises, his features begin to crawl, first eyes appearing, then a nose, until his face is complete. Sleep makes a languid gesture with his arm, then slumps back.

The young man, Morpheus, shrugs, and a pair of wings with dark semitransparent feathers emerge from his back. He walks out; there is a distant resumation of the whisperings on the edge of hearing as he enters the dreams; but these soon die.

Silence returns to the dark-blue lit cavern. */
/* Physics, Maths, Physics. What an inspiring way to start a Monday morning.

"I tried not to get bitter, but promises were made in wine; sarcastic february roses open up my closing mind..." */
/* April 21, 2002 */
/* "You've had his bloody liver," he said, "what more bleeding lights do you need? They're in the fucking cucumber frame, and if you think I'm going to get them, you can think again."

Back home. Back to school tomorrow. Back to the crap.

What is scary, though, is the way that my real life is starting to impinge upon my internet life. I now speak online to at least one person who sees my "Carisbrooke Personality" alone under normal circumstances. I mustn't change personalities and freak her out....

... but nevertheless, that personality doesn't work. It's an act. It's a total fake. But if I did the happy bouncy huggy act, or even the depressed but willing to talk at length about it, to open my heart, everyone who knows me IRL would be most... worried...

Because that's not the me they see.

Brain fucked. Core dumped. */
/* April 20, 2002 */
/* Perkin is back! All salute! All Hail! Rain, snow and sleet to follow, with occasional sunny spells.

Right. Life update. It's sad I have a very little more to say about a time period of over a week than one day.

It was April. April is expensive. Run, Spot, Run. See Spot Run.

It's Birthday month in our family. Mine's first... followed by mother and siblings', each in their turn.

If you want to know how I've actually felt, for some reason, scroll down. It has come to my attention I have written about more or less exactly the same thing since the inception of this blog. Note to self: must be depressed in more entertaining ways.

I posted once on my LiveJournal, which I keep mostly so as I can comment on other's LJen; more of the same. Ignore it.

Good things have been happening, though. Thank heaven.

Saturday: ARCnet/#happykid meetup... lotsa fun. Good to see Ally, Keith, Nidhi, Steve, Lucy, Chris, Chris, everyone...

Sunday: I was organised into having a kinda birthday party type thing... this I viewed with suspicion, since I am not naturally a party animal, but it was great fun. Played Beatles songs till some time in the small hours, then everyone else got pished. :P Sorry for my initial suspicions :P.

So it's been a good week all told. The good has outweighed the bad, and that's all that can be said. */
/* Wow. I have a blog back.

I'll do the update on life (woo) when I'm more awake... this is more an excuse to hit the big orange "Publish" button, to pour more excrement on the entropic pile that is the internet...

And on that cheering note, to bed. */
/* April 17, 2002 */
/* And we're still not up. It was my birthday on Sunday.

Happy Birthday to me. Hah. */
/* April 8, 2002 */
/* Well, I've not updated this for a few days, cos the server was down and nobody could read it.

Nobody can read this now (yet) but there's something I kinda wanted to write anyway...

All the friends I believed in
I believed in for a while
They had their flair
They had their style
But nobody quite got it right
Nobody knew just how it feels to dream

It's struck me that IRC is really a daydream. A dream in which I play the part I long to play; a part where I can just be. Where I can hug people randomly because I'm fond of them. Where I can show how I feel and what I think and how I am. Egotistical I am.

And then I wake up, and once again I'm trapped behind this wall of cynicism, coldness, and logodaedaly (word-skill or word-play) that I've created, and again I am lost and confused and upset because nobody can read my mind for me.

I'm fairly sure that I'm an irritating little git. But a lot of people are. I hope this is the only fashion I follow. */
/* April 3, 2002 */
/* <Loonix> "first evidence against saddam"
<Loonix> ...which interpreted to non-politic bullshit, usa are collecting crap on iraq, so they can bomb the shit out of them, in the name of peace */
/* The campaign didn't name the evil from which users should flee, but the graphic showed a floor almost entirely covered in mauve paint, mauve being the color of Sun Microsystems. So far, so good: but the alternative on offer was to jump through a window, which literate readers will know as defenestration, a popular way of inviting kings to commit suicide in 17th century Europe. The "jump to your death" route seems to be the path followed by the advertisers themselves, as the promotional website itself has performed some form of ritual suicide in its migration to Windows.

Today I did precisely nothing. Except tidy. And write another song... How rude can you be about the RIAA without being sued for it? */
/* This is a rant. Those of you who don't like rants may want to skip this and head on to tomorrow mercifully unburdened by my year so far.

Well, it's April. It's been a hellish year so far, I don't mind telling the imaginary audience that I imagine the imaginary page counter tells me I have. I've already journalled the two deaths in this blog, but whereas herein they have scrolled off into an archive somewhere, in my mind they're still there, gently fading...

One other person I know and am very fond of has been diagnosed with something serious in the mental illness department (self-harm, suicidal tendencies, the works), which is less than pleasant...

One other other person I know and have done for a long long time is in intensive care while the doctors try to work out why her lungs aren't working...

And my love, my poor love... my fading star, slowly illuminating less and less, and freeing me at the same time. But it hurt. And it hurts, and continues to. In the armpits of bad nights, it creeps up on me, along with all the other stupid things I've done, gestures from people I've misinterpreted... there are so many people I need to say sorry to, to express my deep loathing of the self that hurt them. I have no words to do it though... I have no words. I had made words stand up and beg; but now I spat on them, and turned my head away.

And it doesn't seem right to me that I've allocated more space to my own, remarkably trivial and banal, sorrows than I have to those of others... just another indication of my cursed selfishness, I suppose.

I hate this shit. I loathe myself. And I'm talking about me again.

Love? */
/* April 1, 2002 */
/* More bloody IT coursework. Still, I'm on a coding high now, 'cos the second half works. Now all I need to do is get it to do what I want it to :).

One site redesign coming right up. */
return 0;

This is all Blogger's fault.

THIS SITE IS SOLELY MY OWN OPINION. Any content posted on this site does not necessarily reflect the views of myself, my Internet Service Provider, my parents, my pets, my friends, or my doppelganger. If you object to any content, please leave a message in the guestbook and I'll get back to you.

This content of this website is measured by mass, not volume. Settling of contents may have occurred during transit.