Archives week 42 of 2005

Oct. 17, 2005 - Oct. 23, 2005


It is a dry bazaar
Stretching across hard-cracked soil
Each our little stall
Full of dessicated thoughts
Polished as we might
Tattered with the lack of funds
Not fit for the greater market
Hoping to set up the next day
A little closer to the stream
That someone might stop by
But not so close ...

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The Blankets

The Blankets
Angry with my nighttime thrashing
Play a cruel prank
Pretending to be you
Calling me to hold them
As I sleep

Pleasant visit and then coffee (With an annoying traffic ridden commute in the middle)

Out to Mississauga again to visit Shiva and Shademan. Pleasant little brunch and then about 3 hours out walking in the rain. Got a little wet. Wound up leaving far too late and then hitting very heavy traffic. Spent something like 30 minutes in line at the grocery store (more traffic of a sort), then ...

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Two half books (Neither particularly relevant)

Spent the day on two books. The first was "The Projective Cast: Architecture and Its Three Geometries" which was, as you will recall, something to which I was rather looking forward. This is a very large book (about 360 pages), of which I only read the first 250 today. Honestly the thesis just hasn't popped ...

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I don't use office applications enough (Openoffice eats my business proposal...)

Very frustrating evening here. Had one of those "oh, heck, I should save this since I've put so much effort into it" moments, you know the ones. You're sure the software is supposed to be doing a backup in the background, but still, you don't want to rely on that.

Oh well, hit save, hunt ...

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Bit of hacking for OpenGL-ctypes (Images or bust... or something like that...)

I've been so busy lately that I haven't even looked at the OpenGL folder (the 124 unread messages count is scaring me). So, rather than do something useful and see what people are asking about, I decided to do some coding on OpenGL-ctypes. Basically I decided to get the image-handling working.

Didn't quite get there. ...

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I Had Been Free

Damnable dream
Though pleasant at the time
Has pulled my thoughts
Which I had thought now free
Back to that which should abandoned be

In Hairy Fists

What a perverse thrill
Holding an artefact of highest technology
Elegant, machined within a hair of perfection
Fragile in its way, destroyed by the slightest shock
Taking it in hand
Not gingerly or tenderly
But with a hand remembering those first rocks
Raised in hairy fists
That, were one to ponder, lead to this artefact ...

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