bah blog

3.8.26 At least some of the boxes are unpacked now.
3.7.19 I hate moves.
3.6.20 So I’m moving next week. Yuk.
3.6.15 Didn’t get to the rave, which I regret. But I’ve been offered a percentage of a company, and they had a problem. The percentage—and the company—make it worthwhile to drop everything and sort them out. I’ll have to research contemporary dance music some other way.
3.6.14 Oh, wonderful; still can’t update my site because a gateway machine at this end has screwed up NAT tables. If I had access to it, I could fix it. Oh well; when I eventually update my site the changes are going to seem dramatic.

The rave tonight should be interesting; the state so disapproves of such things that it made them effectively illegal in the 1989 Criminal Justice Act (or whatever it was called), but many people so love their art form that they’re willing to pursue it anyway, despite the risk of state oppression. Bureaucracy—which is per se mindless—always detests passion (more…).
3.6.7 I visited the smoke because I wanted to pick up the current version of Open BSD. For complicated reasons, I ended up walking down Charring X Road, where I encountered one of those ubiquitous “closing down tomorrow” temporary bookshops. Usually, such places are full of crap. This one wasn’t. I found shelves full of contemporary poetry collections at 99p each. Rather than selecting individual volumes, I got the hoover out.

Buying a wadge of volumes will show me what contemporary publishers publish and fail to sell, what standards I have to beat should I attempt to get a collection of my work published by a third party. I’m beginning to think my copyleft approach will be a strength; the current music world controversy regarding pirating suggests it could cause a ruckus, so might be of interest to the general media. Mind you, this does rather require me to approach a publisher (at the moment, I’m going for self–publication).

Having bought the volumes, I nipped into a café for a coffee. Charring X Road became surreal; a helicopter landed in Cambridge Circus.
3.6.5 Last year New Scientist published an article on The Simulation Argument which suggests our universe, and everything in it, is a computer simulation. This inspired my poetry sequence an engineering rush. They’ve now published another article on the theme, by John Barrow from the local university, suggesting we watch out for ‘glitches’ in physics. I suspect he’s making some invalid assumptions about simulation technology; I may try and contact him. There are some fascinating implications I suspect I’m going to explore in verse and prose.

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