inquiry

whatever comes to mind

I'm attempting to learn me some Microsoft Powershell...

... which seems to be yet another mess of Microsoftian proportions.

My first hope was to exercise a RESTful API.

Looking into how that might be done led me to Invoke-RestMethod.

But of course it doesn't seem to provide a reasonable means to examine the http status code.

That lead me to Invoke-WebRequest, which does provide semi-reasonable http status code access.. but of course there's disagreement on whether one is a superset of the other.. Invoke-RestMethod can do some automatic JSON parsing Invoke-WebRequest can't.. although that can be accomplished by piping a JSON response to ConvertFrom-Json....

The module system seems a mess compared with that of other languages.

And how functions return values the notion of “convoluted” seem like a mighty good thing.

But, well, my employer runs a Microsoft-based shop. I've worked around that with Cygwin to get things done in more sensible, unix-y ways. But somewhere along the line they're going to want things Microsoft centric so they can maybe make heads and/or tails out of the things I've done, pass it along my eventual replacement, and so on.

That Bill Gates is one of the richest people in the world (or is he the richest? I lost track...) is pretty much all you need to know about how massively fucked up this species is.

> Something Better > > A Poem

Beautiful!

> To My Readers > > If you like what I write, then please subscribe > > If you don't know what I write, you can find out. > > Thank you very much. > > _____________________ Subscribe

Done.

> I come back to a point Jon Udell expressed – context > is a service that we can provide others. Because on the > base level, highlighting and bookmarking is beneficial > to you. But then, once they're on the web, they become > potentially beneficial for others – all from making your > reading content-addressable.

<entropy winks, grins>

> Money, of course. I always stress about it when I have > large amounts of it going out the door. I am always > transparent on this blog, and I gotta say – I never seem > to have enough money to do the things I want/need to do.

Are the wants/needs editable?

> This is more or less me talking/writing to myself and > warrants no feedback, I just wanted to put into text the > way I feel about things. Feeling good :)

Textual gyrations on public dance floors have the look and feel of invitations to do-si-do.

> It’s me. Standing there. Living a life of moments and > experiences lets me dawdle over a coffee and see the > excruciating glory in mundane places. Now I head back to > beautiful, wondrous and often incredible Vietnam for a > year. I’ll find more mundane and trivial and share them > as I ought. You’re invited to armchair the voyage. Just > be patient. I move at my pace. Maybe you will see something > new in the little. I still do.

<inspects his armchair's seatbelt>

Ready!

> From Numerous e-mails. All marketing. Personal e-mail > newsletters I will remain subbed to. Also went through > and did a security check on Google. As I “need” > Google. Even though I do not. I just went through multiple > pages and steps just to pause my YT history because I > didn’t want to have a bunch of triggering/offensive shit > on my YouTube timeline anymore.

I'm very much interested in becoming Google-free. Voluntary disuse of Youtube has already done me lots of mental good for avoiding the inner anticipating-advertising cringe. I just need to figure out how to repurpose my two Chromebooks, and I'll be deleting the Google account.

Disabling javascript for all but a few seemingly vital domains has also lightened my disposition significantly, simply for knowing others aren't running their invasive, attention-torpedoing crud on my machine.

> I won't be running away, of course. I still like write.as, > still love the idea of minimalism as a feature and openness > as a perk (as long as the latter gets better and remains > a core tenet). But I am less and less driven to quickly > write up a quick thing or three on my tablet or laptop > and push it out.

The collective impact read.write.as posts favoring minimalism has me suddenly remembering John Lennon's “God”, which includes a formidable list of things he no longer believe[sd] in... going on to sing “the dream is over” several times – which mind is currently mapping to the nightmare of bright-shiny-objects-substitutes-for-solid-content web offerings.

> Use ninja with cmake

For the love of the prolivolution of build tools!

> Interesting read on the age old problem of distraction. It > is just made worse now with all of our digital devices > clamoring for our attention.

People do seem to be convinced they've no choice but to obey what they theyselves have made their digital master.

> I headed towards Locking and Green Pastures near to what > used to be Weston Airfield, Weston-super-Mare, Somerset, > UK. With no real idea in mind I'd see if anything > worthwhile presented itself to me.

Totally worth the effort. Thank you!

> Remember the last kind gesture someone did for you, no > matter how small. What was it? How did it make you feel?

My manager acknowledged in Teams chat the joy I find in connecting not necessarily obviously connected dots – without denigrating it to the status of some sort of evidence of having attained unto kookhood.

> Respond to the prompt here.

And possibly lose referential context? Or become subjected to undisclosed tracking? Or... be eaten by the Cookies Monster...?

<inner wavy visual lines morphing to memories of the days when online textural interaction was simply and innocent exactly merely that>

> First snow in 2020

Mmmm... such a tough contrast to top!

So... turns out I was merely fear-magining having driven my cherished correspondents away.

<wrings sweat from his asymmetrically grey/black eyebrows>

> Behold. I, Juan Mirieth Auriel, speak of the two > towers. They are twin towers.

I had a funny hunch that eventually someone was going to be telling me there are two kinds of towers in this world (although I suspect the author was more referencing some parallel-ish nether aspect of this world).

Oh, wow... fabulous blue jay in view in a neighbor's tree!

“In view”... of?

What is that seeming observer?

Is it really just a firebrand of a thought re-volved/re-peated (i.e. “agained”) quickly enough to manifest a seemingly emergent circle suspended in air?

Work meeting in 20 minutes.

And I'm hungry.

And I'm afraid to read a correspondent's email, having somehow become convinced the end of that is near.

No no... don't wanna know know!

I think I shall prepare some food for that meeting. It'll be time for my second caloric does by then anyway. That way I won't have to carry the laptop around.

How does it feel to be.. one of the bloggiful.. people?

Less than 15 minutes to the aforementioned meeting... and counting!

(not really.. but, you know)

And now <snare drum roll>... straight from the very heart... of Mister Poster's Neighborhood:

     would you be mine
     could you be mine
       won't you be
        my reader?

<cymbal crash>

> How is everybody doing?

Excellent, thank you bloggy much!

> I am going to try to utilize the “silent mentions” > approach to using hashtags on read.write.as and see if it > works. Worth a shot.

Ah, yes: the glow of gadgetry amazement.

But I've found that no amount of amazement with machine(s) addresses being alone in a sea of others.

In related news, last week I disabled javascript execution in the browser for all but a couple, three domains.. and the peace gained relative to any perceived (imagined, really) loss slaps the word 'palpable' back and forth across the face with steady, knowing blows.

> I gotta be a little honest here – I am a bit stressed > about just how little moolah I am going to have available > to me in the near future due to college costs. I talked > about this before, but it is worth repeating. I don’t > like being 110% broke (which is what I am about to be).

Not that the situations are at all the same, but those words remind me a bit of a son whose innards were populated by hooks, lines, and sinkers his mother fed him regarding his – from her point of view – “evil” father, whose mere existence said son could thus not even so much as molecule's-worth acknowledge, doing so for so long the notion of “son” lost all but its most fundamental, biological meaning to the father (and even that aspect started feeling more like a dream than a reality).

The financial consequence will likely be that when the “evil” father passes, his wealth will be pass in its entirety to the woman whom the “evil” father increasingly pondered making his wife, thus winding up benefiting her progeny – and, subsequently, theirs – the aforementioned son receiving not so much as an acknowledgement of his hooked, lined, and sunk existence.

All for the absence of the simplest acknowledgement of another's existence.

(Which, hmmm... does that sound like any blogging platforms you've ever heard of, by any chance?)

> The only thing I am interested in, is placing bets on HOW > human civilization ends within the next decade (or two). My > money is on insects going extinct and losing pollination > abilities and therefore, vegetation becomes a thing of > the past.

The loss will be as significant as the loss of a reflection of the moon when a puddle dries.

> Not trying to sound dark or depressive, but let’s face > it – this world is pretty friggin grim a lot of the > time. Even the cheery “She’s A Rainbow” tunes from > The Rolling Stones playing on my earbuds right now cannot > make me think of anything other than how bad this place > (Earth) can be.

“2000 Light Years From Home” is better anyway.

Typing of seemingly another planet, we so enjoyed season one of Netflix's “Virgin River”....

> Same thing applies to this response hashtag. You have to > actively seek your hashtag page just as you actively seek > your mailbox, expectant yet unknowing what you'll find. At > most you know whoever is contacting you is purposefully > seeking you out – they looked to see what your hashtag > was and decided to use their Write.as post on their own > blog to respond to what you were writing in a (hopefully) > constructive manner. That intention could lead to a kind > of discourse that rises above interaction.

While I'll an admit a growing tree of subthreads eventually entropies out, experiencing sweet spots in the work of following their descent remains far more rewarding to me than software-mediated response-bundling gimmickry.

> I've also never really tried edibles, unless you count > New Year's 1999 when an old friend of mine from the > poetry scene saturated a bag's worth of pot in butter > and then cooked it under low heat for an hour (which he > called “voodoo butter”), then we ate all the butter > on sandwiches and got so messed up we could barely think > straight.

As a matter of fact, I invented cream of weed back in the 90s.

> So the wandering will end with my visit to the US. I’ll > get back to New York on amtrak and then ride it again all > the way across the US from New York to Seattle.

Cool to think that at an undisclosed longitude along that trip, a traveler whose blog posts I've so enjoyed will be sailing the tracks less than a quarter mile from my house.

In far less glorious news, I'm pretty sure some rather lengthy correspondences I've enjoyed immensely for years have come to end.

> The World Wide Web puts the vast stores of human > understanding at our fingertips, anytime, and almost > anyplace.

I must admit having spent most of my life unable to imagine it ever being so easy to dip my cortical fingers in so vast a crock of shit.

(But I suppose that's not really fair, having lived through 1980s televangelism – not to mention advertising in general.)

More specifically: whereas in oldener days cream rose to the top, the internet has given sludge and worse the tools to not merely compete with cream, but to fake truth it out of existence (i.e. search results).

> Maybe it’s time for us to ask why we think the things > and do the things we do. Why are we so willing to dismiss > the ideas and ways of others? Why are we so intolerant?

That's Ego 101.

Higher level courses (i.e. 666 and above):

  • The girl/boy/whatever who cried clickbait
  • The insular one-way-street-iness of blogging
  • And so on

About 90 minutes of sleep last night, so apologies in advance for any crankiness that isn't merely your imagination.

I submitted a post first entitled “And in the end.. the posts you take.. are equal to the posts.. you make”.

But the link write.as created to it based on that title string was identical to a past post of mine entitled “And in the end”.

So I changed the title to “And in the end, the posts you take, are equal to the posts, you make”, reposted, and noted that write.as created a unique url.

But I'm somewhat fearful deleting the first of those two will actually delete the old original post.. so I'm stuck having to look like a write.as posting doofus for a while.

(Not that I don't already look that way most – if not all – of the time to most – if not all – of you, mind most – if not all – of you....)

> The fight to stop Nestlé from taking America's water to > sell in plastic bottles, wherein we hear yet another tale > of a mega corporation profiting from what's essentially > a public resource and not giving much (if anything) back, > and about the efforts to fight that corporation.

Egos assembling to fight other assembled egos?

Holy endless ignorance of root cause, Batman!

> And that's it for this Monday. Come back in seven days > for another set of links to start off your week.

I do appreciate thoughtful, time-saving curation, Scott!

It's been a sort of lava lamp of consciousness string of days for this here author: non-trivial memory loss, strange onsets of seemingly “real” olfactory sensations vaguely associated with the same in dreams (whose conclusion – should I chose to accept/pursue it – would be death (or so I imagine in the onset of its throes)), my partner insisting my having gone into trances of sorts accompanied by odd neuro-behavioral displays (especially in the mouth region), and relative ease (compared to how it's seemed for so many decades) of letting go of the dream which life-is-said-to-be-but-a in favor of the still quiet voice of attention upon attention.

Does that read like complete and total insanity, or what?

Yet doth its usual opposite – seemingly being a self drowning in seemingly infinitely so much not-self – seems far more insane than the hysterical-laughing-invoking calm of the aforementioned.

The end seemed so near I even told two of my three all-time-favorite correspondents exactly how much I appreciate them in no uncertain terms lest I somehow soon never get the chance to do so.

Not that I haven't been “Do'h!”-grade wrong countless times before, of course....

> The fight to stop Nestlé from taking America's water to > sell in plastic bottles, wherein we hear yet another tale > of a mega corporation profiting from what's essentially > a public resource and not giving much (if anything) back, > and about the efforts to fight that corporation.

Egos assembling to fight other assembled egos?

Holy endless ignorance of root cause, Batman!

> And that's it for this Monday. Come back in seven days > for another set of links to start off your week.

I do appreciate thoughtful, time-saving curation, Scott!

It's been a sort of lava lamp of consciousness string of days for this here author: non-trivial memory loss, strange onsets of seemingly “real” olfactory sensations vaguely associated with the same in dreams (whose conclusion – should I chose to accept/pursue it – would be death (or so I imagine in the onset of its throes)), my partner insisting my having gone into trances of sorts accompanied by odd neuro-behavioral displays (especially in the mouth region), and relative ease (compared to how it's seemed for so many decades) of letting go of the dream which life-is-said-to-be-but-a in favor of the still quiet voice of attention upon attention.

Does that read like complete and total insanity, or what?

Yet doth its usual opposite – seemingly being a self drowning in seemingly infinitely so much not-self – seems far more insane than the hysterical-laughing-invoking calm of the aforementioned.

The end seemed so near I even told two of my three all-time-favorite correspondents exactly how much I appreciate them in no uncertain terms lest I somehow soon never get the chance to do so.

Not that I haven't been “Do'h!”-grade wrong countless times before, of course....