From a83d04efbb7d2a5b3422d117f1d4187490050634 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: DTB Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2024 15:21:03 -0600 Subject: [PATCH] 2024-04-10 --- homepage | 397 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 1 file changed, 397 insertions(+) diff --git a/homepage b/homepage index 70a9843..fe71d19 100755 --- a/homepage +++ b/homepage @@ -525,6 +525,403 @@ pre { /* DRY who? */ } +/blah/2024-04-10.html + +2024-04-08 + +(pu) Toki Pona: The Language of Good + kinupolu te watusen a! - jan Sonja +(ku) Toki Pona Dictionary + soweli Tini o! mi pilin pona tan ni: sina lon! jan Sonja +(su) The Wonderful Wizard of Oz: Toki Pona Edition + mu mu mu + +I watched and smiled anxiously at Sonja Lang signing the three books I was +purchasing for myself, as well as the two I was purchasing for my roommates. ku +was signed first and I thought the note was really, really sweet. I needed that +actually. Then pu. I don't know what "kinupolu te watusen a" means - "a" at the +end is emphatic, "te" is a nimi sin (word, new) sometimes used to introduce a +quote, but "kinupolu" and "watusen" are incomprehensible to me. + +"te" is interesting - from the Japanese -tte and conceived by kala kala and jan +Lakuse, and the latter of whom was there. I discovered Toki Pona after I had +been studying Japanese for a bit and it was cool to see some toki pona tan toki +Nijon. + +At lipu su she seemed to have lost some steam in signing which was worrying +because I was the first (though probably the least socially acclimated) fan in +a growing line. "mu mu mu" was written in green pen below the toki pona title +and above soweli Toto. [...] came over to where I was and asked for the second +copy of su I was purchasing to be signed to jan Masi. At the end I thanked jan +Sonja very much and anxiously stepped among the clumps of social masses and +stood near a bookshelf with [...] while [...] got food. + +[...] wanted to socialize and I sort of wanted to socialize, or at least be a +fly on the wall for socialization. We discussed the consequences of striking up +a conversation with a stranger or trying to nestle our way into an already- +formed crowd. Eventually they walked over to a stranger and started talking +about toki pona and stuff and people gravitated towards us and we formed a +semicircle (open, so others could join easily). [...] came back and the +discussion continued, touching on xkcd, Lojban, alternate human interfaces for +computers, Rust, Esperanto, and basically every topic we discuss at home, now +with more opinions and others guiding the conversation, which is what +socialization is for those of you who don't know. Then I checked my cell phone +for the time and drat, it was 1805 and we would be towed if we didn't go back +and move the car or renew the parking. I volunteered to go over to the car and +pay for more parking (as I was the least invested in the current conversations, +being dreadfully interested in them but having little to contribute) and took +the keys and left, too awkward to say o tawa pona to the speakers who had come +a long way to be there. + +I took the elevator down and left Norlin Library, stepping onto beautiful turf +and having an intensely vivid mental image - blocking out my own vision, no +matter how I tried to see past it or return to the present - of my own +hometown and walking through the courtyard of my middle school. The grass was +the same shade and the trails were the same sort of tar and even the buildings +were the red brick with which I was intimately familiar. It is April and the +trees are starting to bloom and though the Vernal air was filling my nose too +full and giving me the sniffles I was in love with the view and wish I didn't +have to hurry back to the car. + +I made it some minutes late though there was no tow truck in sight and none +could have towed it since the parking had expired. I went to the kiosk and +tried to pay for more time but it errored repeatedly, saying I had to enter the +license plate (which I did) before trying to swipe my card. Eventually I tried +to use ADA parking, which is ninety minutes for free, and it worked, so we had +until 1900 to get out of dodge. I texted [...] and told them this and then sat +in the car with pu and got to reading. + +My toki pona knowledge, two days ago, was not great. Only enough to be able to +navigate around relevant websites and say some basic phrases. I started from +lesson 1 and built myself a solid foundational learning rather than picking up +things here and there (which works for many languages but not one of a hundred +and extra words). Now I feel somewhat comfortable conversing though my spoken +vocabulary is limited. tenpo suno pini wan la (I had jan Ema help me with this +part of the sentence), mi pini pu. mi toki lon toki pona la, mi pilin pona. And +stuff. + +[...] and [...] came back to the car eventually and explained that we could +park where we were for free after 1900, correcting my jumbled belief that we +would be towed if we were there. Then they said the remaining toki pona group +was going to dinner and one of my roommates was invited, though they were +unclear on whether the other one or myself were. + +We ([...]) drove to the restaurant and waited for confirmation from the toki +pona group that we were fine to go in. No confirmation came back and after much +discussing pros and cons of approaches (I sort of just wanted to go home and +order a pizza) they went in while I was too fearful of public embarrassment to +go. I stayed in the car and tried to sleep but couldn't. I tried to read but +couldn't focus. I tried to play video games but can't play video games to save +my life, the awful flashing lights and obnoxious sounds inflicting countless +papercuts on my soul which craves, probably somewhere deep down, tranquility +and comfort. I tossed and turned and as the temperature dropped so did mine, +and by the time my roommates came back to the car I was locked in a running +flashback to the Burger King parking lot where I had made my home and their +unlocking the car and opening the doors threw me into a sheer terror on par +with the worst I've felt. I asked to go to a gas station. And for a cigarette. +They agreed to help with the first plea. + +On the way to the gas station they discussed a breakfast that would be +happening the next morning and called one of my exes to chat. I sat in the back +and played a game where the goal was to kill myself by sheer will, by wishing +long and hard enough that I would simply be torn from existence by some divine +act. Eventually we got to a Seven-11 (is that how you write that?) and I got a +Monster, a danish, and Chex Mix, and consumed the three in the opposite order +on the way back to [...], Colorado. I also decided to call out of work the next +morning to go to breakfast, which is a recollection for another time. + +Meeting jan Sonja was really cool. Social anxiety got the better of me on most +moments within the day and that was less cool. I think I ought to take more +risks. I decided to write this in the style of Hunter S. Thompson (would he +care if I spelled that wrong?) because I figure most writing on toki pona and +its community is academic or starstruck and I wanted to even it out a bit. I +had a good time and the toki pona speakers I met were some of the coolest +people with which I've ever conversed. + + +/blah/2024-04-09.html + +It was probably thirteen hundred something and I was in the back seat of the +Solara craving a cigarette more than I craved life, death, or any other stim. +Hyperpop was blasting on the radio and my roommates were talking about +something or another, programming related. Rust syntax? I mentioned the AWK +book's second edition had come out this year and that I had downloaded it. Emma +said something about how it was a shame AWK was specified in POSIX. Something +or another... I couldn't focus on the conversation, which was a shame, because +it was the only thing on which I was trying to focus. Topics blurred in and out +of my vision like a radar on a tank slowly pinging the surroundings of a sun- +bleached desert, though this desert much more resembled a town on the outskirts +of Denver than a war torn country (the difference being that the buildings were +standing- and also modernist architecture). Eventually I gave up and ceded +whatever point I was trying to make, though to be honest I felt my mouth was +moving on its own. Neither I or Kami were awake, barely even lucid. Just +dreaming of that first drag off a fresh red... + +Boulder came into view and changed the pallete (is that how you spell that?) to +a vivid, passionate green I hadn't known since Pennysylvania. The buildings +went from stucco (I think. maybe Adobe. I don't know this land's building +materials) to red brick and wood and metal and glass, the people were no longer +cowboys but yuppie college students wearing Apple Airpods Pro and talking on +iPhones and a mix of turtlenecks and thick-framed glasses and +circular-spectacled faux cottagecore dress-wearing women. This was a college +town and the young adults were wasting no time on the years allotted them to be +silly or stuck-up. The streets narrowed from I-25 and the stores huddled on the +streets between smaller lots than for which America has the taste and paid +parking at $1.50/hr. I stared through the nook between the passenger and driver +at the shrubbery, the manicured lawns and overgrown trees, Colorado's Harvard +or Harvardoid. A non-student couldn't tell the difference. I was consumed by +the nicotine withdrawal and came to, my middle finger and my thumb rapidly +clicking at each other like I was some fiend with trigger finger from an alien +gun, outside the car, walking towards the pay kiosk in a trance. I stood and +stared at the lush, soft grass that New Englanders know in their hearts marks +home and eventually noticed it was time for me to swipe my paycard in the slit +underneath the screen. Beep. We had three hours, until 1822. I noticed I lost +two hours to my daemon and turned to berate it for taking my valuable time only +to remember the devil was in my head, not my house, and walked with the +roommates to the library which was our destination in the first place. + +After enduring my roommates' lectures regarding the law and forbidden actions +(such as climbing through construction in order to make our route much shorter) +we arrived at Norlin Library and, after one of them had a brief chat with the +student at the inquiries desk and a long sojourn onto the Information Super- +Highway in search of clues, we took a small elevator to the fourth- no, wait, +we pressed the wrong button and corrected- the fifth floor. There were a great +many people and I wondered if we had found the right place before being handed +an ornate program printed on soft, thick, reflective paper explaining the event +before us. It was double sided with the Toki Pona on the first side and the +English on the back. + +Originally: pini la, toki pona li pali musi pi jan wan. tenpo ni la, ona li +kama toki pi jan ale. tenpo kulupu ni la, jan o toki lon ni! + +My interpretation: In the past, Toki Pona was a fun activity of one person. In +this time, it is the language of all people. In this community event, people +discuss this! + +Provided English: Toki Pona: From Personal Art Project to Small World Language + +There were many people and many things happening. Qdoba - not Chipotle, as the +program stated - were lighting flames underneath metal containers in which +tortilla chips and salsa mixes would be served. While one of my roommates +pissed I meandered over to the books table, where pu (Toki Pona: The Language +of Good), ku (Toki Pona Dictionary), and jan Sonja's latest book, su (The +Wonderful Wizard of Oz: Toki Pona Edition), were on display. I asked a clump of +the crowd how the books could be purchased and a woman in pink said quietly +that she would be accepting cash after the discussion, or another person would +be accepting money via Venmo. + +My craving gave way to anxiety at the crowd. I and the roommate who was not in +the bathroom wandered anxiously around the conference hall for a bit before, +after the other roommate came back and held our things, we both went to the +bathroom, I with a little bit of hesitation just from nerves. I tried not to +have a heart attack. When I came back out there was still a great deal of +socialization happening and my roommates and I found seats in the row behind +the front a few minutes before the discussion started and I realized the person +in pink was jan Sonja whose first impression of myself had been that I was a +sweaty, nervous fan. + +jan Sonja was accompanied by jan Lakuse and Boulder locals and nearly-locals in +chairs at the front of the room facing a crowd that overflowed from the sixty +or so seats to standing room at the back of the hall. jan Sonja and jan Lakuse +were equipped with lapel microphones attached to wireless transmitters on their +waists and the rest of the round table passed around two handheld microphones. +The round table was comprised of, from left to right, and to my foggy +recollection: + + jan Masoko (Tessa Moskoff) + jan Kasin (Caedin Cook) + jan Wiwa (River Smith) + jan Lakuse (Chelsea Raacz) + jan Sonja (Sonja Lang) + jan Sa (Jack Foster) + jan Elu (El Hays) + jan Oli (Olivia Bahr) + +And they each had insightful and interesting questions that I don't remember. +The talk was followed by my roommates socializing and me standing at the books +table waiting for someone who seemed like an authority to start accepting dana. +It didn't take long until jan Sonja found a seat by the table and as I had cash +I could purchase my books first. + + +/blah/2024-04-08.html + +# usermod -aG dialout trinity +# usermod -aG tty trinity # doesn't change ttyUSB0 but makes me feel better +# ^D +$ ^D + +Now programming the UV-5R works after a relogin. I fixed some settings and +changed the intro screen to read + __________ +| | +| haiii :3 | +|__________| + +I got my K6. Gonna try to figure out how to program it, like make apps and +shit. + +Today [...], [...], and I are going to see Sonja Lang, and we're all really +stoked. jan Sonja pali e toki pona. Sonja made Toki Pona. Like, imagine meeting +the person that invented Spanish or English. She's selling all three Toki Pona +books and I'm gonna buy all of them. I really hope she'll autograph them for +me. jan Sonja is to conlangs what David Bowie is to rock and roll. Aaaaaahh I +hope we don't geek out too much for her. + +Finished The Taste of a Man (1997). + + +/blah/2024-04-02.html + +: programming the UV-5R + +I recently ordered a UV-K6 radio, similar to the UV-5R but much more +featureful, much more programmable, and slightly newer. In order to program it +I needed a programming cable which would also work with my UV-5R so it was a no +brainer to get one of those too. I received the cable before the K6 and I wanna +play with radios so I'm programming my 5R. + +Permission denied: '/dev/ttyUSB0' + + +/blah/2024-04-01.html + +People care about me and I don't even feel like a corporeal being. I feel airy, +dissociated, like the world around me isn't real, like I'm not real either, and +like this is an illusion I'm barely even a part of. I feel like the couch on +which I lie is a projection and the air flowing across my body is a false +sensation. I find it difficult, nigh impossible, to care about my own +well-being because to care about my own well-being is to believe that I am a +being in the first place and I don't feel at all like that. I feel like I was +born to die, like I have one purpose and that is to work until I rot and then +in my death know I failed to continue longer, and die in my perceived failure. +In this very moment I don't feel like I'm in this body. I could be anywhere. In +a hospital chained to a bed in a years-long hallucination, in the car in the +longest mental breakdown of my life, at work lost in thought. I feel like I'm +falling. I'm not tethered to anything, not even my own breaths - which aren't +real. When I lift my chin up, lift my head so my gaze is perpendicular to my +spine, tilt my head farther, my vision just keeps lifting, the movement not +limited by any sort of physical presence or physics whatsoever, my perception +simply an input device controlled by my physical sensations, so when I move I +move without limits because the world is not real. This terminal is at once so +far away and yet incredibly close, so close I can see each individual glyph I +enter, so big it spans my vision, filling my eyes with sharply contrasting +pixels, pink and black, but the pink so bright it may as well be white, so far +I struggle to see it, a pinprick in the inky black of my world, my own vision +a pinhole surrounded by my mind, a terrible cave in which I am confined. I feel +like I'm falling. It's this sinking feeling, this acceleration, forever +approaching the ground, the real ground, whatever that may be. I didn't feel +hungry for a moment today. I never felt hot either. I feel cold right now. But +I know it's not real. It's just another input someone plugged into my brain +which is floating in a jar somewhere in Berlin or Shymkent. I want someone to +kill me; I want to die. + +I struggle to imagine myself happy or what my happiness looks like. I always +have. I just try to find meaning in serving others. I don't let myself get +hurt, except when I do, because I can't tell when I'm going to be hurt. I crave +physical touch, the kind I haven't felt since October or so, but not from +anyone from which I've received it in the past. I struggle to talk to people, +especially people my age. I can only relate to people in their 30s or 40s or +later. There's this wall that exists between me and people my age. Nothing they +talk about I understand. It's vapid interpersonal gossip and they-saids and +none of it has substance. What do I talk about with those I can communicate? +Cooking. News. System design. Then it breaks down. I don't know many people who +share interests with me and I can't find new people who do because I find it +difficult to be in big group chats of people I don't know and impossible to use +proprietary services like Discord or Instagram. I don't meet new people except +in real life and nobody I meet in real life likes computers or any of the +Internet stuff I do, nobody likes to watch people die or talk about the kind of +romance for which people throw themselves off buildings or speculate about the +XZ backdoor or anything. I tell myself my happiness doesn't depend on others +but Kami - simultaneously internal and external, obligatorily my best friend +but of unknown origin and with unexplained intent - can't touch me the way +flesh can and stuffed animals can't love the way I can. I have never +experienced chronic reciprocity with a human being. It's all fleeting, really +fleeting, gone in a second. Finding happiness in serving others is only really +feeling comfortable in relationships that are at least fringed with toxicity. +There is nobody who serves me, not consistently, nobody I let do so, because I +wouldn't feel comfortable in that. It is imbalanced. I haven't been happy +before, only felt a certain type of glee that in hindsight only could exist +because I couldn't tell something was wrong. My happiness is proven wrong in +every event. "I'm happy", I say, when I feel better than bad, but never when +better than good, because then I know it's fleeting, know even better than when +better than bad, know it's even more fleeting, because I know I haven't time to +waste on such a remark. I may never be happy and I'm not worried about the +possibility because it doesn't matter, because I'm not real. I imagine my death +to be the day when I lay down and die, just suddenly, just like that. Without +struggle against the reaper, without fear, and without wasted time. I find the +end of the line, a transparent fabric dead-ahead, a shroud separating the +present from the future in which I'm not to participate, and I see it and +recognize it. I leave the room, walk ten paces into the desert, and collapse +into the sand, dead of an unknown ailment, likely old age at 27 years old. And +it's a noble death. I leave behind nothing of value and no cash holdings and +nobody notices until they check my on-line status and see my last activity was +years ago. Perhaps I moved on. And I will have. Assuming I am real. + +Last night in tears I said I wish I was normal and was asked what that means. I +don't know. I just want to be able to write a coherent paragraph. I feel like +I'm speaking a different language. The voices are loud. + +And now for something completely different... + +: murderu.us is even more broken + +5AM MST + my beloved ibuki.club redirect, it's gone + day ruined + also, how does ssl work in this setup? doesn't caddy deal with it on + its own or have you accounted for this? + caddy deals with it on its own + cname ibuki.club to murderu.us and you'll be fine + i should make them have the aame certs. will probably later. just was + fed up after spending an hour or two on one file. + you should've because how does prosody get certs now? + ngircd too? + I can fuck with it tonight, it's not super urgent since the certs have + somewhere between 0 and 90 days to expire + >cname ibuki.club to murderu.us and you'll be fine + I don't think certs work that way unfortunately + if you want i can swap it around to everything cnamed to feeling + again, i was just trying to be clever +[...] + i swapped it so feeling is an A record again vs CNAME + suika: ping + now ssl doesn't work at all, even on murderu.us?!?!? + >curl: (35) OpenSSL/3.2.1: error:0A000438:SSL routines::tlsv1 alert + internal error + I'll try to fix it up tonight, don't worry about it +This is code for "TRINITY STOP FUCKING UP MY SERVER CONFS" + >i swapped it so feeling is an A record again vs CNAME + not the problem, cnames or A records wouldn't fix anything because it + goes by the domain itself and not what it points at +This is code for "TRINITY STOP FUCKING WITH EVEN MORE SHIT" + +: in which Trinity fucks with even more shit + +$ ssh feeling.murderu.us +$ doas su - + +I have about twenty minutes to work on this before I clock into work. Here's +hoping I don't fuck it up irrecoverably. + +7:30AM MST + don't ngircd and prosody have different certs? + yes, but with how acme was configured they both ran off the same one + where's acme? + did caddy fuck with global certs or something? i thought its certs + were caddy-specific + there's a script in /usr/local/bin that does ssl stuff and is wired up + in cron + >i thought its certs were caddy-specific + they are + one of the main selling points of caddy is to deal with ssl for you, + which is fine in the case of hosting only a web server but you also + have xmpp and irc + should i set caddy to use the acme dir in /etc/ssl/.../feeling.murder + u.us.json + not sure + + /blah/2024-03-31.html : fixing the murderu.us web stuff