I recently got into a discussion on FB about rising heroin use and attendant ODs in the middle class. Some of the commenters had very personal and painful histories of losing family and the thread threatened to turn into a flame war. I dropped out, but the experience got me thinking and I decided to collect my thoughts on the matter in one place. Continue reading
War Against a Plant – A Streetview
I will remember water and silver and wind
in a pale sky. I witnessed what I saw;
the hand that shapes experience from event,
smiles, tears and silences that spoke,
blood that sang and things unwordable,
the tune that mingles with a woman’s voice
when Love is noun and verb and adjective,
when you and I seem somehow quaintly past
in the unexpected present tense of We.
There is no end to this, for having been,
it will be, as long as memory.
After the storm and sadness of goodbye,
you I remember: water and silver and wind.
The grass is
ed and continuously
dis con tin u ous.
Doublesight lightnings with visions
with the phenomenal uniqueness
Things are, in many ways.
Commitments and a strict morality
have hurricaned the mind’s most sweeping arc
and left the twisted arts that might have been,
screaming for light in furious, windy dark.
A child’s voice that asks the name of sin;
and older voice that seeks a child’s eye;
hintings of a pure fatality;
these are things for which a man might cry.
Visions habitate the close-held dark,
promising one last fatality,
thrown into a heaven-searing arc,
free of innocence and free of sin,
blessing those still free enough to cry.
What stopped the passage of what might have been?
Seeing once more as by a child’s eye,
commitments and a strict morality.
Somehow, it seems to take a whole lot more
to satisfy me than it did before.
When I realized
my father didn’t have a moustache,
I felt sad.
And when I realized
I didn’t have a father,
I felt like killing the bastard,
all because of a moustache.
Where the moon stands
look for the angry wind
fresh from victory over the fragile sun.
Where the moon stands
look for the blackthorn trees
surrounding the helpless hill.
If traces of the pale-ash moon
survive the wind’s attack,
if silver moonstabs penetrate
the blackthorn wall,
look for a hand’s-breadth of rarity
(Oh once-in-a-lifetime-vision, life, new life!)
and on your palm read mirrored
the world’s destiny and your own.
The unreal pain finds ways to sting
the thing which is not there.
The non-existent footstep rings
on the non-existent stair.
Nature defeats this minor technicality
by birthing minds which also lack reality.
In the Wintel world, it’s not uncommon for a new release of the Operating System to ‘break’ programs that previously worked. Given that users are running both Microsoft and third-party code, it’s understandable that problems crop up. IBM’s mainframe OS, on the other hand, has a reputation for being 100% backward compatible. A program that would run on OS PCP 1.0 will run on the latest zOS version. This is because IBM puts a LOT of effort into making sure new code is compatible with old code.
In 50+ years of working with the OS, I’ve only known of one upgrade that broke anything, when the logic of Write-To-Operator and Write-To-Operator-Reply functions changed. And that problem could be fixed by a simple re-assemble or re-compile, as long as the programmers were using IBM’s coding tools. Continue reading