trinity/src
1
0
Fork 0
Code

2024-04-10

Browse Source
This commit is contained in:
dtb 2024-04-10 15:21:03 -06:00
parent 06afeef436
commit a83d04efbb
1 changed files with 397 additions and 0 deletions
Show Stats Download Patch File Download Diff File Expand all files Collapse all files

397
homepage
View File

@ -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
<suika> my beloved ibuki.club redirect, it's gone
day ruined
<suika> also, how does ssl work in this setup? doesn't caddy deal with it on
its own or have you accounted for this?
<trinity> caddy deals with it on its own
<trinity> cname ibuki.club to murderu.us and you'll be fine
<trinity> i should make them have the aame certs. will probably later. just was
fed up after spending an hour or two on one file.
<suika> you should've because how does prosody get certs now?
<suika> ngircd too?
<suika> I can fuck with it tonight, it's not super urgent since the certs have
somewhere between 0 and 90 days to expire
<suika> >cname ibuki.club to murderu.us and you'll be fine
I don't think certs work that way unfortunately
<trinity> if you want i can swap it around to everything cnamed to feeling
again, i was just trying to be clever
[...]
<trinity> i swapped it so feeling is an A record again vs CNAME
<trinity> suika: ping
<suika> 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"
<suika> >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
<trinity> don't ngircd and prosody have different certs?
<suika> yes, but with how acme was configured they both ran off the same one
<trinity> where's acme?
<trinity> did caddy fuck with global certs or something? i thought its certs
were caddy-specific
<suika> there's a script in /usr/local/bin that does ssl stuff and is wired up
in cron
<suika> >i thought its certs were caddy-specific
they are
<suika> 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
<trinity> should i set caddy to use the acme dir in /etc/ssl/.../feeling.murder
u.us.json
<suika> not sure
/blah/2024-03-31.html /blah/2024-03-31.html
: fixing the murderu.us web stuff : fixing the murderu.us web stuff