A growing assortment of random snippets and informational tidbits on UNIX command line and shell scripting. Check it out.
Soylent Green is still people. And these are still downloads.
I've truly fallen in love with Ruby. It's the perfect balance of sexy and smart, and it really does make programming fun again. How would I sum it up? "Clever girl." This is my Quiver Ruby notenook. It contains stuff I had to learn, know, and/or keep track of in my Ruby journey. If you're starting out with Ruby, go ahead and take a look!
Geographically near dreamland. Perhaps always, and farther from wakeland. Screaming bliss. Slices of summer childhood slides. Cherry Popsicle mariachis. Pasadena swimming pools' reflections upwardly hue-ing pined Bavarian stucco. Coral structures. Jungle gym buildings, mushroom-cloud-shaped clouds. When you chance upon your city rotated full of funerals and roundabouts. The memories of dreams of memories snowball. Hallelujah! Floating tours of deserted cities. Don't awaken Vodie's damned pink bear opposite clinical structures. Seems to Jacuzzi my mind-fabric. What will I find inside this time, this ride? When I chance the slide of a question mark. The Physics dictate; They force a dot-pool landing. Ergo: ink, what now? Change the scenery? Glorieta Romana Fuentisima ala Broadway? Of what iceberg undersides do I consist? Roots boast no maps. No known end to this deep end. Explore on, young'n.
Not so much the nightmares. The bazaar's enclosed neon spaces of dreams waxed strange. The ones that strut like 3AM public access television. Stuck in lightless vacuums, fumbling about like a drunk poltergeist. A manic zoo puma pacing repeatedly in its enclosure. Dysfunctional light switches. Mutating spaces. The tumbling fever dream persistent.
I got the seats leaned back max. Flauntin' my paroxided Chuck E Cheese ponytail. Probably camping somewhere in a '92 import minivan. Bills. Just-a contact-lensing a travel plan. Sure them lizards got the right Hawaiian shirts. But ask any axe to spill an ox's laugh, they'll just Paul Bunyon your ass through aquarium glass. And no, there's still debris on the runway. Digital trophy getcha laid behind the nightclub. Act cool.