“Our logic is full of holes...
I can see the bubbles.”
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void* Randomness ( )
/* How are you gentlemen? All your James Joyce are belong to us! */
{
/* June 29, 2003 */
/* Well...

... off I go, once again, to the Isle of Wight, tomorrow.

No more broadband 'net niceties :p

And I'm meant to be getting a job.

Argh. */
/* June 28, 2003 */
/* /me applauds jimmy's dream. */
/* June 27, 2003 */
/* this is: James Joyce Was Korean Episode II [clone of the clone of the clone of the clone of the clone of the clone of the...]

I'm back, folks...

"A sympathetic stranger lights a candle in the night..." */
/* June 23, 2003 */
/* Oh, what's there to say?

What's the use?

The island loometh in a week or so - and nothing looms quite like a large offshore island, believe me... and right now I have nothing to say. Too tired to rant about ICT exams or anything... too - tired, I suppose - to care very much about anything else. Heaven alone knows why. It doesn't worry me much. I'm too tired to worry much.

But...

A certain friend of mine is under the impression that I ought to compose a concerto for giblets and orchestra... so Toby and I came up with an instrument that sounds like a cross between a koto and a frozen chicken being hit with a small metal hammer... this is because both frozen chickens and small metal hammers play a major role in the sound production...

Also been listening to way too much Tchaikovsky recently... hit a large seam of it in the box of LPs, and I'm now pretty much Tchaikovskied out... Toby and I reached a consensus that being Tchaikovskied involved being tickled by someone with the end of a six-foot bearded Russian composer... he thought this kinky, but there is some other use... in that if the object of affection arrives to find a large [naked?] bearded Russian flailing madly, balanced on the end of [his|her|its] bed, trying to keep [his (presumably)] centre of mass in the right place... would certainly be a good test of strength of mind if nothing else...

At this point we get into the realms of puritans holding plungers... </in-joke> */
/* June 18, 2003 */
/* "Like a Sturgeon,
Spawning for the very first time,
Like a Sturgeon
Got your caviar on my mind..."
*/
/* June 15, 2003 */
/* The truth is out there....

... but sometimes the truth is in here, too, drops of it blow in through the smashed innocence-window and form puddles on the floor, staining the carpet... then we need their hoover to come and suck it up, and board over the window, and wrap us once again in our comforting technicolour crochetwork lies which warm us and remind us of our childhood... and they croon away our fears, and smother us softly.... killing us one day at a time with strangelove... and never let us see out of that window again... */
/* June 13, 2003 */
/* "It felt like I was burning,
But it's OK,
I heard the piglets screaming:
Send me drifting..."
-- Hunz, "Send Me Drift'n"

Sometimes I like to lie with my head on my arms on the desk, watching the orange lights on the switch... at present, cables are plugged into ports 1, 3, 5, 7, so the lights go dark light dark light dark light dark light... the light ones flash slowly in stately dance, and sometimes a pair of lights pirouettes intricately as data is exchanged.... they look so purposeful, sometimes... I can only imagine what das blinkenlights must look like in a major routing thing... I want to watch them, to drown in them...

</obsessive> */
/* This must be a dream... my feet don't seem to touch the ground properly, they seem a long way off.... it's dark inside head, and light penetrates only my eyes, no further in than this... am onionskin but conscious is coming away a little from unconscious, like having airbubbles in psyche... sensation only reaches to outer layer, within that I sit, watching out from between iron unconscious core and real (?) world... sometimes I feel skyscrapertall, sometimes antlike tiny, sometimes I don't feel at all... my conscious mind is gravitating upwards toward the top of my head, which is inconvenient of it, it needs to be lower, lower, lower, so it actually interfaces with my "body" (?) sometimes....

Do excuse the wibblage. */
/* June 12, 2003 */
/* pushd . > /dev/null; cd /usr/pkgsrc; for i in 1 2; do { until dir=`ls | head -n \`perl -e "print int(rand() * ((shift @ARGV)-1))+1" \\\`ls -1 | wc\\\`\` | tail -n 1` && [[ -d $dir ]] && [[ "$dir" != "CVS" ]] && [[ "$dir" != "distfiles" ]]; do [[ -d do_nothing ]]; done; cd $dir; }; done; make && make install; popd > /dev/null;

DO NOT run that as root on a NetBSD system. If I've got it right, it will download, compile, and install an entirely random piece of software from pkgsrc.

Oh, what a productive morning. */
/* June 11, 2003 */
/* It's coming up to summer again and - I just noticed - all the colours are changing... I'm assuming this isn't just me, and is a function of the light, but with summer is coming, at least while I'm living here, "space to breathe, how short soever". I was just noticing this in, of all places, the bathroom; the sun is sinking at the moment, and it was directly shining in the window. It was almost like I hadn't been in that room before, the way that it was suddenly larger and... cleaner, I suppose...

Just a thought. */
/* June 8, 2003 */
/* [[ found in /home/cheesey/writing, dated some time last year. written about carisbrooke high school ]]

Every week we filed in in lines, in our allotted spot, sitting down on the hard chairs, prisoners of presentation and spreadsheet. Sometimes in summer sunlight would come in bright through the windows at the left and sometimes dazzle/obscure, sometimes illuminate...

There was a man who used to stand at the front before the wooden stage. He usually wore a suit. He spoke, and in speaking said nothing; often he tried to inform, other times he shouted, other times he begged. There was no meaning, no emotional import to what he said, though.

We came there looking for something, many of us, except the ones who had just come along for the ride because it was easier than resisting the insistent ones. We had been promised so much. So much truth, the promising of which is easier than the giving...

And so eventually when it was time to get out, most did - except those who had no choice - and nobody seems to mourn the leaving...
*/
/* June 5, 2003 */
/* Another mental note, which should have been posted this morning only blogger was being arseful: The "blast radius" one can achieve using only a perfectly ordinary grated cheese sandwich seems to be utterly independent of the amount of cheese in said sandwich. My current hypothesis is that it is directly proportional to the enthusiasm (measured in Joules, I do feel) with which one grates the cheese... I'm pretty sure this is a function of the size of the cheesegrater, the force with which you apply the cheese to the grater, and the speed with which you oscillate (cheese || grater) (depending on personal taste).

muttermuttermutter. I'm pondering putting in MISBL as a secondary scripting language for BIAS, once the NQL (Not Quite LISP) runtime is running properly.

That'll irritate people.
*/
/* June 3, 2003 */
/* Mental note: I ought not read GIRLS ARE PRETTY just before an M2 exam.

My head is currently completely disconnected from any kind of reality.

Sleep might have been a good idea, too. */
/* Right - I've not updated for a while.

This is due to two factors:

one - the obsessive/compulsive me coming out whenever I have a new project. To see what I'm working on at the moment, you can see the changelog here - note that this will not be a public service for a long time, if ever... much more friends and family type thing. It is valid to see this project as a diversionary activity from:

two - maths exams, two of which are tomorrowtoday.

On the bright side, what with obsessing over perl code and .htaccess files and shell command injection and all those funky techie things (come on UNIX, strut your stuff), and stressing over Mechanics M2 (woo, woo!) I've had no time to get pissed off about anything else...

[[ update: why this wasn't posted last night I'll never know - I wandered off to sleep and left it on the screen. Off to college now I go... ]] */
return 0;
}

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