hirez: (My name is legion)
Earlier this evening I posted a picture of a gravestone on the FB because ho ho ho gothics and churchyards, eh? What am I like, etc?

The slightly longer story is probably going to take me a couple of attempts to get out of my head, so I don't know how much of this will survive.

There's another picture in the phone, which would have been of a pair of circling Kestrels (maybe) had the camera optics been a bit better. Instead you can see the house across the valley from Charlton Abbots church. It is called Holt Farm and I lived there until 1976. The set of views possible from those two locations were quite a feature of my growing up. I am really quite familiar with many of them.

Thus it is quite hard to completely convey the absolute weirdness in finding that gravestone, lurking in plain sight in the wall of the churchyard. It really is very Nigel Kneale.

The other thing that happened is that I stumbled over a 'tweet' by what appears to be 'Tony' 'Parsons'. It reads, for the most part, 'Hande hoch! For you zer war is over!'.

In seventies Winchcombe, which was halfway between home and primary school, there was George Constant the barber, an actual sweet shop called oh god I've forgotten the last time I looked it was an antique clock shop, which means the children of Winchcombe will have to make do with a restored half-hunter rather than a sherbert thing and a packet of ten candy cigarettes. Round the corner and down a bit, almost opposite the narrow lane down to Hayward's (hardware shop) workshop, was the newsagent. There was a sloping counter of general interest magazines (Farmer's Weekly, Woman's Weekly, etc), things I never looked at towards the back of the shop, and a roundy-roundy thing (aka a hurdy-gurdy) that contained JT Edson paperbacks and Commando comics.

What little I knew of people from Europe in those days was informed by those Commando comics, Dad's Army, Colditz (although that was on late so I wasn't allowed to watch it) and The Secret War.

Quite a number of years later, (1993) I (we) beetled off to a campsite just outside Lelystad for a hacker camp (HEU) and discovered really rather quickly that everything I thought I knew was more or less wrong, which was absolutely fine, and most of the things that other people (friends, family, the mainstream media) were keen to tell me was also wrong, and that was absolutely fine too and I could cheerfully ignore them.

It also made it obvious that the people who wrote for the NME had haunted similar shops and also read Commando comics and watched Dad's Army. And had learned nothing of the wider world since then.

'Tony' 'Parsons' has not been to a hacker camp, so can be cheerfully ignored. He is reacting to people from Europe as if they were from a Commando comic.

It is the C21st and that sort of behaviour is really quite stupid. On the other hand he is old and probably had it shot off in the war for the likes of you.
hirez: (Trouble with my worms (ii))
I was walking about Bath yesterday afternoon for the purposes of fresh air, exercise and quietly thinking about a problem. The nature of the light, the colour of the leaves and the act of exploring reminded me of the state I was in on the way up I-95 to Martha's Vineyard. Both excited and somewhat trepidatious about meeting people and learning things, out of my comfort-zone, but energised by that and as fascinated by more or less everything as jetlag would allow.

I walked through a tunnel under one end of the Pulteney Bridge and peered into the back of a pub or nightclub. It reminded me that I want to go back and look at Croton and Mystic. Even thinking about those names makes me weirdly nostalgic for an adventure that hasn't happened yet.

I want to live in that state of mind.
hirez: (Radiation)
So, um, in the course of kicking some ideas around a muddy 2ndXI pitch before they put the goalposts back for the start of the new term, an idea that I'm not entirely sure how to express came to me...

'If I have this shiny-thing[1] then things will generally be better and I will be able to hold my head up in polite society and/or do better in my work and/or cop off with that person of appropriate gender-presentation.' (Or some other outcome along those lines.) :

[Poll #1774704]



[1] Where 'shiny-thing' expands to 'boots, article(s) of clothing, leather goods, elective surgical procedure, electronic device, personal conveyance, &c.' I'm not entirely sure if it encompasses 'toy frenzy', but that may (or may not) be a gendered assumption.
hirez: (Bunny Eye)
I think I am experimenting with how and if four (four!) slightly different social-meejah-wossnames can be made to play well together. I note that G+ and parent org appear to be making all the fuckups in the first month that it took LJ a decade to muddle through. That's either something clever to do with the accelerating nature of the 'plug-in lifestyle' (We have been living in one or other John Brunner story for the last two decades) or an attitude of 'start as you mean to go on'.

On one hand, it seems that having some semblance of your real name attached to yr online doings does make the poo-flinging howlers shut the hell up. On the other hand, there are clear and sensible reasons why being able to bother the internet under a pseudonym is an actual safety issue. I suspect Gurgle are being aspie cock-ends about it, but that they're also utterly buggered by the relevant US legislation.

I also suspect that we're in a very odd sort of transitory period between sad old gimmers like me who have piles of records and negatives and would be buggered if physical unfortunateness happened, and ver yout' who keep all their things on other people's computers and who will be differently buggered for theoretically less structural reasons. People have coped in the past with losing all their stuff - they got to make a sad face in the local paper about it. The future version will involve the expectation of a second chance and I'm off into victim-blaming and I don't want to do that. Back to Brunner - 4GH FTW.

Obviously, I don't see fit to record or organise enough of my life to usefully bother three of the things, so I suspect it likely that one or more will fall by the wayside, which would be either sad, of minor interest or 'Who? No, never heard of him.'
hirez: (Trouble with my worms (ii))
A number of months ago I was idly considering a story in which Jolly Dutch Anarchist Astronauts pitch up on a random asteroid with spacegoing versions of a RepRap and fusion reactor in order to hollow it out and bootstrap themselves an orbital habitat.

It was to have been an extended ramble on the nature of gezellig because I had recently come back from HAR2009 and I felt that in an applied form of that environment, all bugs would be an excuse for a hackathon followed by beer and techno.

However, the concept of instantiating a biosphere appeared to be firmly in No Can Has territory.

And now there's this. I'm going to guess that there's a lot more to it than having a bunch of Jolly Jack Tars plant a random selection of trees. Probably to do with airborne insects/microbes/yeasts or somesuch. But given they did just randomly plant things from completely different bits of the planet and it appears to have worked, um, donkey. Yes.
hirez: (dissent)
(It's an Attila piece from 1982. Gosh how we've moved on....)

Anyway.

A quality item.
hirez: (psyche-out (i))
(Half of m'friendslist is going to be dressed beyond the nines and drinking their own weight this arvo. Excellent work, there. Carry on.)

Adam Curtis has seen the Parallax View. Fine stuff, mind.

Kraftwerk.
hirez: (Default)
I have my winders box back. It was a sixpence ha'penny Shonkomat-7 PSU in the end. Mildly embarrassing from a 'should be able to fault-find better than that' viewpoint, but it does mean a spare Micro-ITX machine to play at Sandbenders with. Note that we don't do 'case mods' in this house; in that direction lies ugly tower cases with anime tits and UV-reactive intestines bulging out of them. It'll run BSD.

This means I'm now able to get on with a bunch of things that required sound or picture-furtling capability.

On the other hand, I also have a hand-crank music box that wants modification. I'd always hoped that any Max Max 2 emulation I might become involved with would feature large V8s and Virginia Hey, but it's gone more in the direction of boomerang-waving child. Oh well. My current plan is to put the tines on the thing back to front to see if different Beethoven comes out.

[Interlude: Comp.risks: The Movie]
hirez: Humppa! (Humppa!)
I've been watching the videos of the sessions I missed from the tail-end of Whatthehack.

Bugger. I want to go back.

(I also have to do something. But what?)

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hirez: (Default)
JH-R

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