“I should feel guilty”

Now I know why I used to say that, and what it hid.


April 29, 2015 at 5:16 pm Leave a comment

Windows 10 and…Other Gripes 8]-

July 30, 2015

I find I have to comment that here I am using Corel WP flaws and all due to familiarity.  However that actually does have relevance.  Windows 8.1 was fine for me.  Then again I fairly quickly wrestled Vista into submission.  It was a matter of stubbornness and doing things (through experience) the [correct] wrong way.

That has nothing to do with the operating system.  I have had 2 encounters with Apple’s, outside of choice.  I disliked Apple because of their first commercials.  I might note too that anything that “everyone has to have” is probably something I’ll decide is definitely something I can do without.  Forever.  For that matter, that’s basically what commercials have done for me.  I hope a lot of companies are pleased to hear that.  Coke.  Red Bull. [Various styles and kinds of clothing, and some kind of…something called “Axe”.] Rich people trying to sell me something so that I can be as classy as they are while not having enough to, well, be what they are (worth precisely all their money, nothing more, nothing less).  Car commercials–all utterly ridiculous.  I like a nice-looking car, sure.  The main concern is how it goes.

Which brings us to Windows 10.  I didn’t like the hoopla.  That’s generally someone spraying deodorant around to cover up someone else’s mistake.  Generally that doesn’t seem to be the case.  The Control Panel is easily available through Settings and anything complicated.  “Computer” has met its final end and you just CLICK ON THE FILES ON THE TASKBAR which does take some getting used to.  You were prepared for this by Windows 8, right?

It looks like Microsoft Edge is pretty much necessary at this point.  It works…OKAY with Firefox, and apparently much more gracefully with Chrome.  However, that makes sense since there are all sorts of Google type things around.  Not Gmail, naturally.

There are tools still to query the Gmail inbox from inside Windows.  That has always struck me as fundamentally insecure.  Then again, I was upset when we went to an always-on Internet connection. [Yes, there are definite exceptions to this rule, and I may well go ahead and implement a schedule.  I have a very advanced router so that I can do things just like that.  It’s also somewhat unlikely that it has a handy backdoor for certain U.S. folks, since it wasn’t built in the U.S.  Or by a U.S. company.

I’m bringing that up because Windows 10 is a partially cloud-based OS by intent.

This means that if you are using more than one computer at home…you’d better keep up on your passwords.  If it’s at a business, you should think carefully about stopping Internet access to your office network outside of hours.

As much as possible use a password manager and use cut-and-paste because…key presses can be detected.  It will be more difficult with the clipboard in most cases.  There are other considerations, of course.

I do not think you can avoid the update!! unless you simply right click the update (by bypassing the offer), going to the update screen itself, and managing to hide that update.  There is supposedly a route back, which I would imagine is actually fairly obvious.

July 30, 2015 at 10:05 pm Leave a comment

About Turth (Truth, I Mean)

I had to leave the misspelling.  Sorry.

This is a true story.  I was being admitted to the stand by way of oath, so that I could (basically) testify against myself.  What the case was about is another and irrelevant story (I will say the neurological doctor I had was infuriated).

The officer of the court–whichever he was–asked “Do you solemnly swear to tell the Truth, the whole Truth and nothing but the Truth?” [*There was an earlier time where ‘before God’ was still part of the ritual.]

I lied and said “Yes”.  I proceeded to answer each and every question as accurately as I could.

The problem is that words are about us and not about what we perceive–they’re not even about the perceptions.  They’re about what we have in common, “what we can point to”.  I know your sorrow through your tears and grimaces, I guess at your joy through your smiles–and if I understand that language incorrectly, generally I am either criminal or ‘mentally troubled’–“or” in common usage includes “and”.

As I answered the questions I still deliberated on this.  Had I told the truth I would have at least been held in contempt of court, although my other answers wouldn’t have varied.

All we know is form; all we can do is guess at content.  That woman’s loveliness (to me) may be a source of fright to her–because she fancies I am staring at her.  [That’s merely a fictional instance, by the bye.]  Then again I found in the rather distant past that ‘her’ nervousness–since there was more than one and there was a span of years–that the nervousness on the part of women actually had signaled attraction.

I’ll admit I’m rather socially inept.  Thus I don’t look, but look away.  I’m also rather deaf, but then on the whole I’m grateful for that from what I remember, and I don’t turn my hearing aids up much at all except when listening to movies.  In respects the internet has been a blessing to me because I can actually carry on meaningful relationships.

July 27, 2015 at 7:11 pm Leave a comment

Essentially a NON-ENTRY

I’ve been doing IT sorts of things until I’m braindead, essentially.  I’ll be back on track shortly.  I’ve had Updates on at least two machines every day for two weeks running, rearranged the office, taken care of various things in house repair, actually thought about investing, written…struggled with setting up a mini-server and am currently at a state of “it simply doesn’t work”…

Oops, pardon me, I forgot to add.  CRUZ IS A COMPLETE IDIOT.  I take it back, I just insulted idiots.

July 25, 2015 at 6:58 pm Leave a comment


Thank you to the observant ones who gracefully passed over my complete violation of the basic rules of security.  I did not ‘know’ the person in question but I granted account access on a timely basis, and have revoked full access.

That was the first time I have done something like that and undoubtedly the last, incidentally.  Don’t share vital account information like username/password unless with someone you really trust; I trusted the Ambassador of Japan because face was involved and because of a kind of view of a thing; I can name neither the the view nor the thing, which makes it all the more true.  I will say I was a child and young adult in Japan and that this in some ways enlightened me, though I would hardly claim to be a boddhisvatma.

Glenn–or Sam.  Should I survive my wife I fully expect to adopt the name of Samwise Davies; this, after all, is an ‘assumed’ name.  Glenn Charles is, I mean.

July 24, 2015 at 7:43 pm Leave a comment

Donald Trump is Worth Ten Billion US Dollars

and nothing as a human being.

Grats, there, Donald old boy.

If he does make it to the Oval Office I need to join the group of the extrapolated.  I mean intermediated.  EXPATRIATED, that’s it.

July 15, 2015 at 10:39 pm Leave a comment

Song of the Dead City

I am double-posting this.  This is my intended submission to a poetry contest, the first in twenty years or so.  I have never double-posted before but may start doing so and figure out how to repost some entries, per advice, ’cause people simply miss stuff unless they visit your home on Twitter.  ‘Home.’  What an odd series of connotations that has taken on in the electronic age.
Song of the Dead City

crystal, distorted moments:
this young girl’s breast
for a moment revealed, and i,
twice her age, cannot quite
look away, though
i do not move to touch her.

and as a child, at her age,
i can remember watching, just so,
my untouched love by-walking,
unglancing:  recording
each hip-shot sway,
each graceful curve’s allurement.

(in Alexandria, they say,
the Blind King parties, of nights,
in the ancient ruins.
ghosts and mad fancies:
i knew
the wise man quite well, once,
long ago.)

how many names have i called?
and how many paths
have i sought, yet unbelieving
in my course’s goal?…i have not seen,
i hope to touch
my Grail, my Other:

from some single
point, or focus:
to know all earth, the sky.
the meaning
of these traces, touches,

cannot be said nor bound.
that trickster turner
catches and passes, unslain,
unslaying, unsaid…

In the Dead City
i resided a while.
At first, viewing
the new buildings,
the gleaming cars
i could not understand its name.

But when i
approached you,
you could not
hear me.

Too many questions
behind the first admission.

…silent, stumbling, deathly
tired, i entered
the desert.

(as i scribe my poems
on the sand, the conscientious
keeper of the desert, wind,
whisks each line, each trace


Few words
have been meaning, most touches
have merely
slipped away:  and have been,
on the whole, forgotten.

–When i first met you, i’d been
in the desert
some months.  My lips
were cracked and dry, my eyes

were full of visions…
in the dead city, where
the madmen and the thieves
do roam and stray, you

tended my wounds, my aching
i fascinated you:  ragged, long-haired,

but the wolves
or the madmen (i am not,
i confess, quite sure which) howled
and i left, unheeding

to your calls.  (In
the Dead City, you
tended my wounds, and i
left you.)

i returned
to the desert and its
wordless teachings.

o, i say, do you
remember touching me
in the Dead City?


and once by a river
i saw an old man,

i heard the old man

“i would have silence,
silence and a dry crust,
and a dry crust

“i would come under
the shadow of that Rock,
that red rock, that
dry rock,
i would come under
the shadow of that

“but at the Hill
there was no answer,
i could not find
that open grave, i…

“i found no silence,
no peace, only plenty
and much
merry-making, they…

“they have all become rich:
in the sanctum
whited sepulchres, they
know not hunger
nor any need, they
have become rich.”

i saw his hands, too,
marred by scars, as if,
once, his palms
had been pierced…

his hair was long, and wild
as his eyes; no
salon would be graced
by such a one…

he sat by the river and
wept, sat by the
by-rushing and wept…

wept for the unborn
dead and all
the world’s sorrows, wept…

but his shoulders, bowed,
would no longer
support the world’s weight…

o, but having

heard the Man
and his sorrowing cry, i

can but search
for the shadow
of that Rock,
his rock.


In the city of the dead,
in that City, madmen roam
to and fro,
seeking for a god
whose name they
no longer remember.

(Once, i recall,
i saw one sitting
in the seat of an auto
long dead.  That great
God, i say, was dead.)


These visions
are illusive, lending
little connection.

But once, bathing
nude with a girl, i think
she was sixteen, and beautiful,
made no attempt
to seduce her.

may be called
many things.

Absent-eyed, dreaming
in a fall wind, i journey
far straits, on brave, unending voyages.


The winter, that year,
came early, bitter (ah, but
i remember
the summer’s roses, sweeter
for the cold that followed)…

each huddled each
to house, clasping
what need would call
one’s love…

odd, that the spring
should sunder so many!  perhaps
we know little
of those mysteries, our selves.


o, yes, travellers have come
with names of their gods
and stories of strange visions, promises
of never-never lands…

the world remains.  though
i name the thunder Thor,
and call the earth Urmutter
this makes the name

no less of man, no more
of the thing itself.

at the fane of the dark,
the nameless god, we gathered

to celebrate our mutilation.
(i have not seen the
light in some years, now)…
our habits have scarred us,

here, in this desert-bordering
city.  (the blind boy, sitting
across the square from my door,
sings of sunset.)

fugitive dreams, vain fancies, thoughts
of an old man
in a dry and unsolaced
season.  (peace, and a dry crust)


I saw you, last night,
dancing alone in your rooms,
half-nude, with
a slow and stately grace.

But when i called you,
you would not or could not

Passing one another on the street,
at times, we brush.
Though we’re near neighbors,

you’ve never deigned to
notice me or my
feeble gestures of greeting
(your beauty stuns me dumb)

–i should have been
a hermit, an ascetic.
rather, i hesitate

before touching or its lack
neither affirm love
nor gainsay it.

but, as you pass once again–
as i review private, midnight
at times i ache to touch you.


At times i ache
in the west wind, dreaming
of leaving.  I
have been here
forty years, now.

(I know these hills well.
Spring-green, summered
tinder dry; autumn-russet
and, of winter, again perversely
green…my memory
as my socks ticked
with beggars-lice…)

There is so much
i’ll never know, though
through all those
different countries i’ve known
there was really
small difference, small change…

At times, all the faces
i’ve known parade
before me…perhaps

i have had too many
friends and lovers.
dry man in a wet month,
glooming over following winter:  perhaps

we’re jesters all.  as i stare,
disconsolate, desiring
my untouched, unknown,
mysterious Other.

July 9, 2015 at 1:44 pm Leave a comment

I’m Taking A Rather Astonishing Position As Well

It could be that I’m being a trifle ironic and annoying as well.

It turns out that one of Joe’s sons (Joe Biden, that is, you know, the guy in the government*?) got popped on a blood test.  I say that because that’s what the wording of the article implied to me, and you use urinalysis for drug testing.  There was also an odd delay noted according to this article.  Or perhaps, just perhaps, they were confused for a long while.  You see, “The Wall Street Journal, citing people familiar with the matter, reported that Biden had tested position for cocaine. ”  Which would be an odd position to take, indeed.


July 8, 2015 at 9:43 pm Leave a comment

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