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Am I a philosopher?

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thunder cracks

poetical · 23 Jul 2015

we are

poetical · 13 Jun 2015

fluctuations of static

poetical · 31 May 2015

let us whisper soft

poetical · 15 Mar 2015

relicensing of 1297 photos to freer CC BY

photographical · 14 Mar 2015

photos copy

poetical · 14 Mar 2015


prosaical · 01 Mar 2015

You’ve been walking all night. Yet another of those times, one more night within the uninterrupted line which stretches from all you’ve known to all you can imagine. Even now, it merges together into one long night, one long walk, one deep pain within your head somewhere behind the tears which have dried in the cold. No one knows where you are, not even you. Your phone’s been off for hours, although there’s no one you would call anyway. For all anyone else knows, you’re spending time with friends or doing whatever it is you do in between the weekly punctuation of how was your weekend it was okay thanks how was your weekend yeah really good saw some friends drank too much but yeah we had a good time.

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New Scientist, Feedback, Year 2038 Problem

technical · 01 Feb 2015

A letter I wrote to New Scientist in response to Feedback, p. 56, 31 Jan 2015, No. 3006, regarding their mention of the Year 2038 Problem:

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she stacks the chairs

poetical · 24 Jan 2015

opening chords

poetical · 24 Jan 2015

log shipping using Rsync over SSH

technical · 18 Jan 2015

If you’re looking to ship logs from multiple servers and perform all sorts of magic, you might like to consider Logstash or Fluentd. But what if you want something really lightweight, or simply don’t have the time to configure a full-blown solution? Rsync over SSH can provide a simple alternative, provided that all you really want to do is have logs accessible from a central place and are a happy Grep user. You’ve probably got the packages installed already, too.

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prosaical · 11 Jan 2015

She would never forget the moment she’d finally realised. It was a Saturday morning, a few months ago, sunny for once. They’d slept in, tired from the week before. He, with a job in the city, working late on some project, paying the bills, keeping the bosses happy, that sort of thing. She, still on maternity leave, working out how to care for this beautiful, screaming child, her first. Their first. He set the table for breakfast whilst she fetched milk, cereal, toast, black coffee. They always tried to make a bit more of an effort on weekends; a chance to slow the pace.

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