For a friend who I can only worry with thanks, and who I did worry with attempts at poetry, because the getting of a clue can mean we must tell others to face reality or else all we're doing is talking about flying crocodiles and claiming that an artist--who is one who puts their health above everything else--stirred people to get himself killed so that almost two thousand years later a mathematician, whose understanding of clarity of thought as it relates to health puts him with artists, could do the job himself.
In other words, cultural freedom means we all have the freedom to hold grudges about wars.
To enjoy my temporary freedom I find myself composing nonsense rhymes and lyrics. Unless we're composing music for money we need to be affected passionately. In my opinion that is best done as a matter of sympathy and not first-hand knowledge: yon two crows are still up on the hill looking forward to kill.
I've enjoyed composing tunes, but I've had to make up some very childish artwork in order to publish them. I've also needed to explain myself to new friends who I had wanted to help me with exploring old technology, which is about knowledge, and not new technology which is about ownership. But I still don't intend to have a maid before I have a wife and I still don't intend to get married. And I don't intend to deal with people who think that what happens in Vegas aught not be discussed: I'm not worried about venereal diseases--airborne shit can be violent.
If you've seen a porpoise, make an excuse and stay at home for a few weeks: yeah, yeah, I think too much--she wouldn't have said that if she was asking me to plan for her son's future.
I can hardly plan fifteen minutes ahead.
The thing about blues lyrics is that they just go on and on and on. These started off many years ago as a good friend to me when the excuses were going on and on and on: I didn't get a job in order to attract a mate. But if I say anything more on that I am just going to go on and on and on.
My experience is summarized in the following, which one day I might rename, but for now is written in memory of a business which has decided to become a weight-loss company, starting with removing the excess weight of having everyone with a desktop (portable or not) in front of them all day.
The Hacker Blues....
'Give me a ride on your bike! I'm a good girl!'
'You seem to be a coffee squirrel!'
"My husband says his bike is tired."
'Don't think of that you'll be fired!'
What are you smoking? Your socks?
The state of health is just a check box.
Save your wealth and you're sure to get ill,
Thinking of a government pill.
I'm sure this will grow as the previous versions did. Trying to be exemplary to no-one in particular I did my best to update it using correct version control principles. But we got tongue-tied with the word beta. Call this version minus two. I'm not quite yet ready to put aside the seriousness of technology which amounts to little more than the having of grocery stores with no grocer; though the recollection of making use of one as a specialist grocery store for two people who were watching each other in terms of how they made decisions, is proof that this is not our fight.