Obligatory "ignore this space" : https://sacoronavirus.co.za

I recall remembering that it was pleasant to sit in the sun with a cool breeze on one. I might call it a discovery: I preferred to hunch over a computer keyboard either programming or looking at interesting stuff on the web or playing games with friends or playing games alone.

Or making games (but I wasn't very imaginative and gave that up quickly).

Or making webpages (but I was struggling with recursion and parsing was a dark art to me).

Or making stop-motion videos (we note that one cannot speed something up to a stop).

Or cycling (but I had become allergic to the word bicycle and preferred to walk).

Which is to say, I didn't have any reason to take up knitting, for instance (I did help my mother out with some dress patterns on the occasion, which is to say I certainly had no reason to believe a computer could offer any improvement thereover, for people who were not taking the silliness of exposing themselves in that which is supposed to cover us to new levels, that required the use of air tunnels and other simulators).

And studying.

First year was as pleasant as a cool breeze while sitting in the sun.

But not as pleasant as a cool breeze, sitting in the sun, on a perfectly shaped rock that came as a gift from something similar (which will get us to give up all our former ideas about technological progress).

Starting up an alternative web browser (we're spoilt for choice) it offers for me to say hello to it, interrupting me while I'm typing a url.

Not now? Are you fucking mad?

We--some friends and myself--started going to the local night club, but we didn't have what it takes to talk to a girl when we couldn't hear ourselves. I discovered some years later, when it registered that talking was the last thing on someone's mind, who was incapable of thinking (I know, I know, I'm just jealous) that I didn't have what it takes to take a girl home just because she was smiling at me (sadly none of my friends aroused me, so that I sometimes struggled to get out of bed for the thought of what I wasn't getting).

I discovered, in short, that my thoughts were very uninteresting. Try as they did, my sisters could only find girls to introduce to me who smiled at me in an odd way as if it was now my turn to do something. I took up squash in order to be a little more interesting, but I discovered that I was no good at the game of accidental contact either (because I find that very cheesy), and that it was second place (at best) to the nightclub (assumingly because one doesn't have to warm up a ball).

I concede I was a little depressing to listen to: it's a little difficult to avoid when one first begins to contemplate time on the real axis.


The only reason for doing so, besides in machinery, is to contemplate boys and girls, and overgrown boys and girls, scientifically.

Some people are quite happy to do that; in fact, some insist that we have to do so for the sake of technological progress--but they'll still deny that a person's knowledge of real numbers is superior to theirs.

Or their knowledge of operating system research.

- The opposite of GPL is something which doesn't give full satisfaction so that you keep going back for more (I'm using a text editor which hasn't changed in thirty years).
- There cannot be a GPL industry (except in terms of in-house solutions).
- It's not only men that get addicted to the stuff that doesn't give full satisfaction.

Which gives a problem to businesses who realize, a decade or two later, that their expensive app upgrades were ill-advised; and who were waiting for a programmer to clone himself (obviously excluding the minor issue of his mother's principles).

I merely mention this to those who might be following my thoughts (the rest of the previous revision was to underline this as many times as the text editor allows).