Chirography

It’s been seven months since my last exam. Seven months since using a pen was com­pul­sory. Tomor­row after­noon could be inter­est­ing… at least it should be rel­a­tively warm due to the time of day. I’ve stud­ied a lit­tle but not absurdly lots. Not too stressed, truth be told. Appar­ently arts degrees are a waste of time, any­way, so I have no rea­son to bother myself. I need to dis­ap­pear for a while and work a lot, but that would close so many doors and I just know I’d never come back (to most of them). That moves from the realm of “miss” into “lament”. I came across a won­der­ful word in the mar­gin­a­lia to a cer­tain poem of Eliot’s, wherein “high sen­tence” is explained as “sen­ten­tious­ness” (iron­i­cally, I had to find a def­i­n­i­tion for the expla­na­tion). The OED ren­ders it thus:

  1. Full of mean­ing; also, of per­sons, full of intel­li­gence or wis­dom. Obs.
  2. Of the nature of a ‘sen­tence’ or apho­ris­tic saying.
  3. Of dis­course, style, etc.: Abound­ing in pointed max­ims, apho­ris­tic. In recent use some­times in bad sense, affect­edly or pompously formal.
  4. Of per­sons: Given to the utter­ance of max­ims or pointed say­ings. Now often in bad sense, addicted to pompous moralizing.
  5. Of a sym­bol: Expres­sive of a whole sen­tence; opposed to ver­bal. Obs.
  6. Of com­po­si­tion: Con­sist­ing of detached sen­tences. Obs.

This word must get more of a work­out. But if I weren’t study­ing arts, obscu­ran­tic cant would be alto­gether frowned upon. I was read­ing someone’s blog the other day (in a fit of pro­cras­ti­na­tion, no doubt) who held Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises to be a com­plete waste of time on account of the mes­sage of the book boil­ing down to “Human­ity, you all suck and are pow­er­less, etc.”. The blog­ger in ques­tion held it to be utterly redun­dant on account of Hemingway’s fail­ure to offer a solu­tion. It begs the “so what” ques­tion in its fail­ure to pro­pose action. Per­haps said blog­ger would do well to be a lit­tle more exis­ten­tial­ist about lit­er­a­ture. Lit­er­a­ture serves as social enter­tain­ment at least as much as it serves as an avenue for prob­lem res­o­lu­tion. And, if it’s any con­so­la­tion to you, dear reader, if I were really feel­ing like a wanky arts stu­dent I would have made the word “prob­lema­tise” (or one of its deriv­a­tives) a part of the pre­vi­ous sen­tence. There is hope for me yet (if only in that I loathe that word with a pas­sion that escapes lan­guage itself, and along with that most who use it).

*tags under “long and wordy sen­tences”, as if there were ever a non-wordy sentence*

# by Josh on June 21st, 2007 | No Comments »

Too much nostalgia for a computer

What fol­lows is writ­ten far less well than it deserves, but — iron­i­cally — I’m drown­ing in other work at present. This needed writ­ing sooner than other things did.

Michael’s pulling the plug on the server that this web­site has run on since 2003.

The ‘server’ has changed dra­mat­i­cally in con­sti­tu­tion since it all began way back when, but… wow. An aston­ish­ingly large part of my teenage years. For the longest time, it seemed as though the Inter­net had alto­gether ceased to exist every­time Dale’s con­nec­tion went out. In the early days, we were all run­ning servers on port 1200 to cir­cum­vent ISP restric­tions on port 80. phpBB was the order of the day, run­ning Apache — on a pirated copy of Win­dows 2000 (those were the days in which “legit­mate soft­ware” con­sti­tuted an oxy­moron). Oper­at­ing on an early ADSL link with 64kbps upload, forum emoti­cons were hosted on free web space pro­vided by iiNet in order to con­serve band­width. You laugh now, but the speed boost was incred­i­ble. Every time iiNet dropped out (to future read­ers: that’s what hap­pens when the inter­net goes out for a cou­ple of hours, none of this occa­sional con­nec­tion time-out rub­bish), an irate explana­tory post from mwd­meyer would emerge and life would con­tinue as nor­mal. Until par­ents dis­cov­ered the server run­ning and turned it off again, which would spark an effort to con­ceal yet another com­puter in a room crowded full of equip­ment. About halfway through 2004, they gave up searching.

These were the days (for me) of NE2000 clones pow­er­ing Smoothwall/m0n0wall routers, recy­cling hard­ware, a sub­scrip­tion to Atomic before all the other kids (I bought more geeky mag­a­zines than any­one I know – I think it was that strange meet­ing place of compters, cre­ativ­ity, and cant that I later became com­fort­able with), when GeForce 2’s and Pen­tium 4’s (the first ones with RDRAM that every­one despised) and DDR-supporting Athlons were still zippy. When frame-based redi­rects passed for domain names — .tk, anyone?

Mostly, it was about the forums… but as for per­sonal pub­lish­ing, this was no small resource. My first dynamic web­site was a blog hosted on that server — I don’t think it yet had a name — we all rolled our own web soft­ware in those days (it’s not that long ago). Some of us still do. The first domain name acquired was Dale’s, in March 2004, co-inciding (more or less) with the forums’ first birth­day. Twelve US dol­lars later (Joker.com’s prices still haven’t changed), we were all still using frame-based redi­rects — sta­tic IPs were the stuff of pipe-dreams, and Dynamic DNS, though around, was out­side of the expe­ri­ence of most of us. Steve ran a notoriously-flaky IIS server with real domains and Exchange, but paid about $150 a month for the priv­i­lege: sta­tic IPs being avail­able only on busi­ness grade inter­net connections.

These are mere details. The forums them­selves con­sti­tute an amaz­ing chron­i­cle of the lives of mwd­meyer, ucosty, Sammy, i_am_a_n00bie, Smile:), smKz, n|cktangents, angelicde­ity, baibai, Sphinx^, lud­vikas, and a hand­ful of oth­ers over a fairly tumul­tuous time. There is so much not recorded explic­itly that sur­rounds the nearly 16,000 mes­sages from these eleven users alone. Some has been sup­pressed, other parts for­got­ten, but all of it inex­tri­ca­bly linked together in the momen­tum of time. There are some things about that time which will never be shared with those who weren’t around.

The forums didn’t sur­vive post-school. This shouldn’t be sur­pris­ing, given the amount of research that says this will be the case for any given rela­tion­ships faced with that man­ner of tran­si­tion, but it was still bizarre wit­ness­ing what would have been sev­eral months of time spent on a sin­gle web­site evap­o­rate into (not much). The server moved from Bal­main to Mar­ian Street, even­tu­ally find­ing its way into a rack there. This is where things get hazy for me. I think the last time I saw Michael might’ve been New Years’ Eve 2005/2006… I feel some sense of guilt about that, but recog­nise mutual busy-ness had a role such that nei­ther of us should be blamed alone. I don’t believe that a blame­less “but things changed” is ever suf­fi­cient when talk­ing about close rela­tion­ships. I’m fairly cer­tain my clos­est friend for about two years at school is some­one that I no longer have any­thing to do with, but can’t explain why. And I know that I can’t in any way blame him, because I’m so guilty of fail­ing to keep work­ing on rela­tion­ships myself.

I sup­pose the point of all this is that the com­puter for­mally known as ‘Metro’, now ‘Loki’ (I don’t know how it got that name — Loki to me is an amaz­ing con­trib­u­tor to Linux-based gam­ing, 2000 – 2002 RIP, but it could just as eas­ily have been named after the Norse trick­ster and Odin’s wily accom­plice!) isn’t just the lat­est in a series of bits of elec­tronic gear that some markup and pix­els have been piped off for a cou­ple of years. This is just one step closer to a com­plete clo­sure of a very large chap­ter of my life… and, yeah, that’s incred­i­bly sad.

Please don’t for a minute con­sider this to be my argu­ing that Loki should stay switched on — it’s about some­thing far greater and more per­sonal than a star­tlingly reli­able FreeBSD web server that just hap­pened to host a web­site for free for a long time.

There aren’t too many peo­ple you can make sit in the back of a car on their 18th birth­day, much less who will laugh along with as it happens.

This isn’t an obit­u­ary, just a poor expres­sion of remorse at the (human) dis­con­nec­tion and ‘drifted’ rela­tion­ships of that era. Michael, once all this stu­pid uni crap gets out of the way (maybe after you move again?), I owe you a fairly large drink.

Thankyou.

Good dreams

I don’t usu­ally even remem­ber dreams. And, when I do, they’re gen­er­ally just ran­dom nar­ra­tives that don’t link in closely with real life. Last night was dif­fer­ent… I dreamt that a box of com­puter stuff arrived unex­pect­edly (from a known sender, with known con­tents… it just wasn’t meant to be sent for free/at all), and then, in some bizarre shift that tends to hap­pen in dreams, I was at church before some­thing started (Car­ols ser­vice? evi­dently the hol­i­day I’m meant to be away on then didn’t hap­pen… but what hap­pens next defies that chronol­ogy) just stand­ing near the door, when all of a sud­den a friend who is a long way away taps me on the shoul­der & we go and sit down some­where. Just for a day, just on a stopover at home, before head­ing else­where… but still… lovely. I miss more than I think. Then there were vision and sound prob­lems, but I wasn’t going to get up in case my friend dis­ap­peared. And the prob­lems fixed themselves/other peo­ple appeared (lit­er­ally, it’s a dream okay?) to fix them.

But this morn­ing is weird because the dream estab­lished a con­trast of dis­tance from real­ity that isn’t entirely pleas­ant. That’s why good (com­pletely) irra­tional dreams must be bet­ter than good (ten­u­ously) bound-to-reality dreams. And now I’m in that post-dream woke-up-too-early (I woke up nor­mally) state of con­fu­sion & expect­ing some­thing strange to hap­pen & not know­ing exactly what’s going on or if every­thing is alright (there were other dreams, too). By the time that feel­ing sub­sides, I will have for­got­ten the dreams com­pletely and remem­ber them only by this mile­stone. This bound­ary stone of dreams.

# by Josh on December 8th, 2006 | No Comments »

An observation about Myspace bulletins

If I were to stop read­ing them alto­gether, I’d have saved myself a lot of trou­ble. Cumu­la­tively, by open­ing them, I’ve sen­tenced myself to about sev­enty years of ill luck in love, life, and so forth. Mind you, the pre­scribed pun­ish­ments for not for­ward­ing the inanity tend on the side of inanity them­selves: per­haps all I have really sen­tenced myself to is bore­dom — it’s hardly ill luck if noth­ing hap­pens at all.

Still, the fires of bul­letins, fuelled teen angst, sweep onwards (over the bar­ren plane?) …

Please tell me why these things (Soc­Nets) are at all compelling?

# by Josh on November 27th, 2006 | No Comments »

Eugh

Get­ting nowhere slowly. Want this out of the way… it’s prob­a­bly $500 worth of amuse­ment. What is gnomic time meant to be? I could post ques­tion after ques­tion of this thing. Note that no other sub­ject has evoked such angst. It’s the frus­trated cry of try­ing des­per­ately hard to under­stand some­thing that usu­ally is, and being foiled at every point. One way or another, it’s so nearly over…

# by Josh on November 7th, 2006 | No Comments »

Rage. Uni. Anger. Blood. Tears. Web applications.

I am about to start cry­ing because of a web appli­ca­tion for the sec­ond time in (I think) as many days. No, it’s not MySpace (it was suf­fi­ciently van­quished after some tum­bling about with pointed sticks).

I sup­pose I should have known bet­ter. Just because there’s no warn­ing, doesn’t mean it’s not about to do some­thing stu­pid. Par­tic­u­larly given the Uni­ver­sity of Sydney’s web team’s fetish for ses­sion time­outs like they’re run­ning some high-grade-cipher-required (they use 256bit SSL certs for every­thing) nuclear launch sys­tem. Only not, because Kim isn’t a stu­dent. But, then again, even if he were the usabil­ity issues would prob­a­bly be man­i­festly more suc­cess­ful than the UN/non-proliferation treaties.

What­ever. So I spent too long ago­nis­ing (and I do mean ago­nis­ing) over sub­ject selec­tion for pre-enrolment (I know, I don’t need to worry, I can change it later — what­ever. I’m hav­ing a stress­ful day and for what­ever rea­son am choos­ing to get this out of the way now so that I don’t expe­ri­ence this later. That’s the the­ory.) and then the mon­ster ate it all. What really [exple­tive] me is that when I finally made my last choice, I went and entered it then its bloody popup-confirmation sys­tem (which, inci­den­tally, is quite usable but I despise it on prin­ci­ple) still worked. Sub­mit it? Sorry, you’re not logged in. Log in? Their [another exple­tive] auth proxy doesn’t even pass the right GET vars (strips ? and pos­si­bly amper­sands, too, it seems, so I got a lovely 404 page), let alone every­thing I just POST’d. Talk about stab­bing users in the back.

Words can­not express how irate I am right now.

To top it off, I’m increas­ingly con­vinced I some­how man­aged to screw up my whole degree pro­gramme whilst still in first year Arts. No, I didn’t think that were pos­si­ble, either. I am ade­quately pissed off with the world to leave this post here.

Folded paper concealing cursive curses cornered

How is this going to get any bet­ter? No longer run­ning over a white­board because there’s not that much con­tent to go around. I don’t even like the idea of this, every­thing was just founded upon some pre­sup­po­si­tion that things were meant to be eas­ier than they are. Which they aren’t. So it wasn’t. So I’m wrong. And its mid­day. I’m get­ting sun­burnt whilst typing.

Can’t. Win. This. Week.

Pick the real clause. One of them is, I think. What­ever. Just over it.

Not even afraid of get­ting it wrong because I already have and it doesn’t seem to make any­thing per­cep­ti­bly worse. Now it’s just bro­ken things strewn every­where. The wreck­age of now.

(Word­Press, some­times it just seems wrong to tick a box)

# by Josh on October 19th, 2006 | No Comments »