My new address is http://blog.zog.org.
Not because I was immensely dissatisfied with Radio, just because TypePad is the better service. That, and Robb's Law: I don't want to have a weblog (any website really) on a domain that I don't own.
Ik ben verhuisd
Mijn nieuw adres is http://blog.zog.org.
Niet omdat ik heel erg ontevreden was van Radio, maar gewoon omdat TypePad beter is. En omdat ik er een website kan hebben op mijn eigen domeinnaam.
zaterdag 5 juli 2003
I should get back to programming my C# blogging client. Couldn't be bothered these last few weeks.
In fact, I'm itching to get my grubby little paws on DirectX. My one regret in PCs is that I've never done any graphics programming past BASIC. It was always the next thing I was going to do when I did C++, and by the time Borland C++ 3.1 gave way to Borland C++ for Windows, it was all GDI and stuff and bother. And then came WordPerfect and then hypertext and then Photoshop and then the web and all that lark.
Now I've slightly had it with the web (who hasn't? ha!) and I really want to make something graphical. Something artificial life-y. Yessir.
Christopher Smart. Jàren op Cambridge gezeten, in de 18de eeuw. Uitgaan en drinken gelijk de beesten. Journalist geworden: zelfde verhaal. Hoerenlopen, zuipen, the works.
En dan wordt hij plots extreem religieus, compleet met op-de-knieën-vallen in het midden van de straat en luidkeels bidden.
Wordt in het zothuis gestoken, en schrijft er het Jubilate Agno, een lofzang op God waar op de oneven pagina's elke zin begint met "Let" (Let Tamah rejoice with Cainito Star-Apple -- God be praised for this Eleventh of April o.s. in which I enter into the Fortieth Year of my age. Blessed. Blessed. Blessed!) en op de even pagina's elke zin begin met "For" (For the sound of a cat is in the most useful preposition κατ' ευχην).
Vreemde, vreemde mens.
Ik vraag mij soms af of Luc er ooit bij stil gestaan heeft dat zijn website eigenlijk wel een heel erg sinistere bijklank heeft voor al wie ooit Nineteen Eighty-Four gelezen heeft:
We are not content with negative obedience, nor even with the most abject submission. When finally you surrender to us, it must be of your own free will. We do not destroy the heretic because he resists us; so long as he resists us we never destroy him. We convert him, we capture his inner mind, we reshape him. We burn all evil and all illusion out of him; we bring him over to our side, not in appearance, but genuinely, heart and soul. We make him one of ourselves before we kill him.
It is intolerable to us that an erroneous thought should exist anywhere in the world, however secret and powerless it may be. Even in the instant of death we cannot permit any deviation. In the old days the heretic walked to the stake still a heretic, proclaiming his heresy, exulting in it. Even the victim of the Russian purges could carry rebellion locked up in his skull as he walked down the passage waiting for the bullet. But we make the brain perfect before we blow it out.
The command of the old despotisms was 'Thou shalt not.' The command of the totalitarians was 'Thou shalt.' Our command is 'Thou art.'
No one whom we bring to this place ever stands out against us. Everyone is washed clean.
O'Brien tegen Winston Smith. Ironie.
Singer Barry White Dies at 58
(AP) - Velvet-voiced R&B crooner Barry White, renowned for his lush baritone and carnal lyrics that oozed sex appeal on songs such as "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe," died Friday morning, his manager said.
