I am experienced; I'll begin here. As in any discussion, please bring any ideas you'd be pleased to share, and consider me only one, among many sides on this issue.

I spend many days doing research online; in cyber-space, and this seems to be disconnecting me from many of my peers, in a geographic sense and also emotionally. One of the big challenges I come across, I experience each day, lies in an issue that I find rather easy to describe.

Recognizing this problem required years of research, because in my mind, I'd been seeking something that I could perhaps find online, inside the echoes of ideas that people share in public. Because the space of our shared ideas is so large, and in so many senses anonymous, that how could the idea I seek fail to be seen in such online space?

Then, as in any issue that plagues anyone, I began to realize the source of my dis-ease. The cause of my annoyances, of my angers, of my impulse to push aside closeness in any of my relationships, perhaps came from a problem in me?

A simple social reel described this phenomenon, when a popular folk musician sat down to learn from other guitarists. Someone in the room said, "you don't change how the instrument plays, you change how you play."

And after this idea echoing in my mind for months, after examining from each angle my connection to my research, I began to sense differently the space I am in.

My problem in online spaces is how big our online spaces seem to be.

Online space, "cyber space" as originally coined by William Gibson in Neuromancer, is described as "a consentual hallucination". This is the sum of the ideas that people choose to share in public. The recordings of real spaces, and the imaginings of endless impulsing minds.

The raging rush of ideas that passes us by in each moment is incalculable. In each hour, immeasurable. In each sleep, in each day, incomprehensible.

Lucky us, that so much of this rush is meaningless. And such a burden, in deciding where the meaning seems to lie.

Cyber space seems to be big, because in essence, our ideas can become so small.

As I record my ideas here, on my keyboard (measuring around 12" across), the nuances of my penmanship are meaningless; only the sequence of alphanumerics and grammar are recognized by the machine. These are the keys.

The keys I impress in my machine are recorded, in magnetic spaces no human eye can possibly see, far smaller than a single pixel on the screens we use to replay the recordings, those pixels also inordinately small and indiscernable.

No more pyramids or walls, no more bridges or towers, the engineering of our modern age seeks to build the miniscule.

How odd our obsession.

I call the ideas you're reading here an "echo", as I call most online media an "echo" rather than a "recording", because when there are so many records to go through, the cacophony and discordance has no other summary.

My echoes are going to be displayed in some index, alongside the musings of similarly sleepless composers, and biased to appear in proximity to others deemed to be in a similar education range and career path. The audience un-sensible, the copies numerous, the relays pushing our echoes as quickly as possible into the memory chips of our peers - our contemporaries, our colleagues, our companion humans on earth. Their screens read back the echoes, in hopes that the meaning remains clear as the signal propagates through precise rules of replay, replay, replaying as years and years go by.

As the keys I press are encoded, they shrink into spaces smaller than they perhaps should be. Smaller than they need be. Small is easy to copy, easy to reproduce, and easy to echo.

By making our ideas small, more of us can pass them around. The speed of ideas increases, and the emotional connection of each is compressed, becoming sharper and punchier.

'Shock and awe', 'clickbait', 'pornographic', and your page may be punchy enough to spread, may become a virus able to reproduce, may be a memory burned on our conscience as in so many other scars. There's language to describe this obsession, the scrolling, the doomsday repetition of small scars on a punished psyche, the inescapable loop of call and response, ping and pong, a gamification of pleasure and pain.

A chemical dependency is normally used to describe substance abuse, a drug-caused compulsion.

The rush of ideas and superficial connections that are being commercialized globally is also a dependency, and far more a problem of the masses than any opioid or opiate crisis could possibly become. Someone needs to be clear-headed to keep opiates flowing, no? Though in cyber-space, we rely on the communication channels in place to help us produce higher-pace replacements for the same.

How to be humane, then, when the increasing pace has no describable escape, and when the machines seem to learn the channels of action, of democratic and bureaucratic decisions and roles, of commerce and ecology and language and boundary, that slip and spill into the consequences of bloodshed?

This is the condition I seem to be seeing; less 'war' so much, and less 'blood-letting' in a medical sense, and less 'shed' as in a loss of excess -

'bloodshed' as in 'watershed', where a full region of geography, of culture and of humanity seems to be spilling into a sea.

How to be humane, in the late 2020s?

How to echo properly? How to amplify the meaningful, and examine for meaning in the rush of ideas that may harbor any?

If humans are anything compared to other animals, in this ecology of immediate communication, our condition is to be susceptible.

Susceptible to dis-ease, to apathy, to negligence, to reckless abandon. Susceptible to excess and rage and the dispassionate logic of numbers. Susceptible to numbness.

'Viral' is a real description, and the spread of these memes and earworms and eyecandies is as medically concerning as the debilit-ability of the animals who endure the afflictions.

Please no longer chase 'impact', 'hot news', or 'explosive growth'; these are signs of bad business, signs of high-frequency trading-blows.

Please build upon homes, meals, common ground, blooms; these are the solid pieces that bring us into company of peers.

And speaking of peers, there seems to be a slip in how we discuss them online; "peer-to-peer" relays are a sign of mechanics, and of how eager we are to adopt the machines (relays of simple encoded messages) as equals, our peers, perhaps our leaders.

No; please chase sunshine. Please chase clean scrubs and numerous grasses and a sea's crisp breeze. Poems beyond rhymes, meaning deeper than seems secure to discuss.

Spend less energy leading machines, and more in the sensation and encouragement of humane emotions. Learn again the basics of language, including the nuanced shapes and shades of each ones' bodies, those irreplicable prizes of animaldom, whom for each of us only one can be called ours.

One of my underlying communication challenges has been how to produce genuine meaning and connection, when my role models excel in speaking out of both sides of their mouths.

If you see recordings of people in interviews, the higher the stakes rise the more likely you are to see someone glance to the side as the other is speaking, and the speaker takes the chance to lick their lips.

Today I'm examining the reasons people lie, how this has seeped through our social dialogues, and how honesty (genuity) can be seen as a bridge of solidarity to people who are lower-confidence, or less secure, than the speaker.

Lies I've Heard

"Get used to your new life ...", she said over a luxurious dinner in a luxurious home in San Francisco's Haight Ashbury neighborhood. Perhaps this was a promise aimed to put me at ease, although she spoke in the airs of a domme, denying me the space to make any decision about this life.

My head had already been spinning; nothing about this moment corresponded to any plans of mine. My recent months of homelessness made the surrounding comforts seem choking and hostile; though I'm sure this emotion had been amplified by her searching gaze, which offered me no escape.

I'm sure she'd been proud of the home she'd arranged, and the dinner she'd prepared, and I'm sorry to say that I'd had nothing to be proud of, in that moment. Recent recognition of my queer gender had broken my family bonds, pushed me through long periods of housing and unemployment insecurity, and conditioned a dependency on cannabis to quell anxiety. The anxiety, of course, had an emotional basis in a plague of fear for the consequences of dishonest help.

I couldn't see a place for me in the 'new life' she proposed, and though she saw my discomfort, displacement, and missing purpose - these were too challenging for us to dig into after the years gone by. Both of us chose to lie, in ignoring these inadequacies.

Had we the assurance of months ahead to go through our uniquely damaged psyches, I'd be able to recognize that this scene, the dinner table and large portions, was one I recognized from each day of my childhood. She'd been appraising my capacity for family, and her searching gaze that I'd become so desparate to hide from began to confuse my memories from childhood, where I never had a voice at the table, with the recent panic attack I experienced at the same table, when my parents began seizing my healthcare decisions from me, beginning with the choice of counselor.

The counselor they chose through CatholicTherapists.com I handled with the same cold, sharp gaze that carried me through my high-school breakup with the Catholic church to begin with. See, I'm good at finding lies and attacks hidden among genuine concern.

Lies I've Spoken

In high school, I sat in the catholic-school cafeteria across from the monsignor of my church, who had until now been employing me as a recepitionist in the rectory. He'd been the biggest role model in the community, of course, and though he used any authority he could to undermine my decision, I'd already persuaded my mind of the senseless harms that religion causes; how then could he use a spiritual authority to appeal?

I sat through the discussion with a cold mix of shrugs and apathy, refusing any motion to change my mind or share my reasons, until he found he had no purchase on my mind or soul; none that could dissuade the silent sociology that a queer child practices daily for survival.

In 2017, I applied the same cold, reactionless inertia to the therapist in Philadelphia. This man had gained his respect by learning the rulebook, keeping problems at bay, and using any remaining chances to aggressively reshape the minds that came to him for help. He had an ugly demeanor and composure, and I know that ugly people often succeed by hiding behind an affront.

The therapist, Peter, thrilled in applying labels to me, explaining how unfathomable he found me, in a manner that now reminds me of seduction. When he had chances to, he attacked the appearances of trans women, objectifying and genericizing. I no longer rely on, or place confidence in, any psycho-therapy; after years of absence from the scene, I can say that the practice of professional counseling seems to enable many forms of sexual policing, meanwhile robbing sexual relationships of their emotional confidence through the promotion of a higher authority, in the eyes of law.

And so in 2019, I became too anxious and she too eager; the difference a reliable home can cause. She'd been going to therapy, and I'd been seeking someone who could keep me out of therapy for good. She laid on the couch, closed her eyes, and when I came to sit nearby on the floor, placing my hand on her leg, she shrugged me aside. I asked for a dance, and we chose an album for her record player. We slept on either side of her bed in silence until morning, candle burning beside the bedside potted plant.

I've been forgetting to pursue happiness; I suppose I could, if I remembered to. People seem to be used to doing so. Or. Do they? People seem to be used to pursuing.

Happiness seems to be something that eludes more, the more pursued such becomes. You can chase the ideal in your mind endlessly, and there shall keep appearing more to be chased.

I am learning to pursue calm, to borrow the phrase. Really, a peacable calm abhors pursuit. I am learning to embody calm.

I've been learning that I can pursue happiness, according to some age-old decree. How so am I to decide if such a decree any longer carries meaning?

I am forgetting how to pursue. There seem to be so many barriers, from my mind to my surroundings, to the physical conditions that keep me in place.

I forget that I pursue so much that makes me unhappy. How so, do I come to hone in on such despair? How so do I choose again the hollow absences? How lonely should I become before I ask for you?

Once asked, I suppose you'll be preoccupied. I suppose you're so used to my ignorant negligence, that you'll pass up on this chance, as so many chances passed us by already.

How do I pass on such happiness?

You came to be by my side, again in a recurring loop. I in a cycle of denial, looked beyond, or ahead, or failed to see through my pain, and paused as the chances passed.

I persuaded my fears they had grounding; I engaged those fears and raised them into real scenes. I embraced my lonely absences. I exercised dismissal.

How come I choose such? The passed moments seem to deny that choice had a say, so hurried in a chemical rush as I had been. So submerged in a pheromonal haze.

I've been forgetting to smile. Perhaps I missed my chance to learn, and as I see my expressions on camera I am surprised by my grim demeanor.

How did I become so dim, hopeless and cynical? How am I failing to engage in cheer? So much do I shrink, so much do I hide, and so much do I amplify the horrors inside.

Yes, the paranoias began as a response to the absences. They began before our disagreements, and you had a proper reason to condemn them, although I heard your condemnation as applicable to me.

Had I recognized the paranoia, the paralysis, I'd brush aside your condemnation and say, "yes, so dumb of me." "yes, of course I'm broken." Condemn my failings, I can dissociate from those.

Only I failed to recognize, and I held my paranoias close. Your condemnation became the reason, or the proof, or the underlying maligned logic, that caused bubbling fear to splash forth as anger, again.

I should be glad that few others seem to experience all this, these emotions could easily break many. These feelings changed how I see, and speak, and hear, and compose my body and mind, and connect to anyone.

I've been forgetting to pursue you; you seemed happy enough, and how could I do so much as to ask for happiness, if this should require you to piece through your share, and reduce your measure for my meager sake?

Our day here in the Northern American landmass, middle ladditudes, is a celebracion of abuses.

A signed agreement, by men combined in purpose by miscomprehension of similar biologies, and enriched mainly by blood upon soil.

I decline; and only say so much as recognizing the source of our miseries, a deep sadness of a burdensome legacy, and scared realizacion of decisions in our momentous hold, and consequences of dis-spelling or mis-spelling, and of many abuses enabled by absence of conscience.

Cabin John

I arose early morning in the Palisades, Western DC. There is a parade here soon.

I hauled home up to Bethesda, and am paused alongside an Exxon shop. I can simply proceed up the road to Frederick, or respond as needed in Palisades.

This page shall soon include more happenings, per-haps.

I hope calm ensues.

Passing near a farmer's market on my course to Malcom X Park, on a lead I picked up from Free DC organizers on Instagram.

I loaded Instagram on my Samsung Pad, my current quickest camera -> upload channel.

I unloaded yesterday and packed this morning my DSLR, charging in-bag.

I'll lodge my camper near the park, carry my monopod and camera gear, and a pair of large drumsticks. You'll see some soon.

Malcom X / Hill

@ 09:30

Around a block from Malcom X hill; going around.

Reached hill, see grass is open again. Recorded a couple drum riffs.

As I played one of the presidential helis passed bearing NW.

Adams Morgan

Descending on Colombia Ave, a number of ambulances were deployed, and a large number of national guard members were on marches through the farmers' market, and coalescing from the building on the corner of Columbia & 18th.

I paused to record a number of discussions, and herded them back around to their van to deploy someplace else. I do hope our neighbors keep cameras up and aimed today.

Around again to the Palisades for the parade, accompanying Free DC.

@ 11:05

@ 14:45

Palisades

Parade has been good; I simply accompanied as a camera operator. No sign of Free DC, though! Complicated because many of the groups dressed in the sharp red tee that I'm used to seeing on the Free DC column.

Rather, I spoke to some of the politicians who were in the parade. Especially surprised to see my former neighbor in the campaign squad for our presumed mayor-elect, Janeese Lewis George.

I was hoping to find my friends and explain that I'll be going for a week or so. By now, most people are used to "Calli shows up when they choose", so I think no one shall be surprised by my absence. Rather, I hope that a dedicated push through to Michigan helps me prepare the builds that are mulling through my mind.

I'll pull the innards from the camper, re-lay and seal the roof accessories, slide under and re-plumb the drains, and find many small chances to make progress on my cyberspace missions.

I'm now in a small cafe in the Palisades, cooling from the obnoxious heat. Next is Frederick, to load up in the storage locker. I should care not to over-pack, as I'll be around soon enough with a UHaul, to clear the remainders from the locker.

I assume there is no cooking, because the batteries need a small harness to re-habitate them after a couple-week discharge in the mechanic's bay.

I suppose I'm saying, I basically chose and prepared for isolation here, and I should be pleased rather than dreading its onset.

Here goes.

Here again, head spinning in a mire of slop; gleaned from the rash of a dizzying nocturn from one corner to another in the dim Baltimore hours.

Music, though I missed the show. Dinner, though I bungled the meal. Company, though she spared me no glance. Elegance, though my dress laid threadbare.

I seem to make no impression on people, or too many, such that the noise surrounds me as a chrysalis that I peer through.

My guarded zone, occasionally broken by piercing stabs of aggression, chiseled to seem cute, cut and dry from all angles besides the one I embody.

"I'm unused to being naked in a bar", I explained to the lady who I'd soon learn had my sister's name, easy enough to be pleased that I shared the couch beside her, and as anyone, concerned for my seeming mis-composure.

In the moments prior, I'd lost my seat on the first bench as a bearded jack-off leaned in for his "wild proposal", one which I had made no indication of agreeing to. Silence seems to be heard as acquiescence.

In the moments prior, I had explained to the first person to ask "are you okay" - "no, I don't need water. I'm meditating. They do call this trance music, you know."

Prior to the bar, I'd been on the curb - spinning the bo (pole) as I'd learned through many bruises, in parades and musical gatherings, and in Aikido dojos for years prior. I had seen a musician I recognized, who had seemed busy smoking, and guessing she headed into the bar, I headed back to my car for the purse; My skirt had no pockets for my card clip, and I find the purse a problem in the flow of the bo.

Prior to pulling the bo from my car, I had to park it at the hackerspace, in the alley, for enough charge to finish cooking dinner. I had a larger meal than normal, on batteries that carry less charge, now that they've gone through the mechanic's shop for a couple of unplanned and unchaperoned weeks.

Prior to parking the car, which is more of a large camper conversion, I'd been parked on the curb near the bars. I'd hoped to share the dinner with others around, though when the inverter begins beeping, and the cooktop surrenders inside of 30 seconds, I'd decided to surrender those plans also. Simpler near the hackerspace, an extension cord run under the door to the parking lot.

And I'd done this earlier in the day, at the hackerspace of course, prior to my shopping for groceries and skirts. I'd been charging the batteries as much as possible, as I showered and cleaned and organized the dishes - some aside for cleaning in the days ahead, some disposable ones on hand for dispensation.

Once I finally found the skirts I needed, and the food supplies I'd been ignoring on these recent cloudy days, as my fridge demanded hours off... I parked before I reached the bars, and the final location for Baltimore's Pride month, to dress up in my shibari harness.

Oh, she doesn't make me happy. No, she makes me groan and beg. She sees me as a lonesome dog all hunched up on her leg.

I'd sooner choose somebody else to lay beside, in bed. Our psycho-social mania is messing up my head.

She lures me upon loose damp ground, her spade digs around the edges. I drop inside a dim abyss in memories she dredges.

I hear she has some children now, tho I've not been where they're from. She asked me under cover, and I had no chance to come.

So big sis, I guess, or cousin dear, you really had me clenched; and I lie in bed each morning, seems you since became so drenched.

As I begin re-launching operand.online, many problems and old pains reappear. I had been ignoring my failed domain for months, because I've been engrossed in occupying a new nomadic residence, my camper has gone from Grand Rapids to Baltimore to Los Angeles, to Baltimore to Chicago to Grand Rapids, this year alone.

I've been finding conferences to go to, although they've been of less use than I assumed. The long hours on the road and hurried composure that I normally embody mean that I'm late to show up and a mess when I do. I'm learning that there are other more sensible methods of spending my days, and this domain is one superb manner of being in many places at once.

Beside my human concerns, I'm spending more energy absorbing the news of global chaos, and I'm sad as each day begins that my sleep has likely carried me through someone elses' tragedy. I'm aligning my business to ending these ongoing and expanding horrors.

Whereas before I used my essays to explore my psychology and relationships, now I am beginning to see how much I had been lacking any purpose. I had a chance to briefly meet and collaborate with 404 Media, I had chances to learn from peers at OpenGovHub, and I am coming to see how my passions are indeed aligned, both to the quirks of my unique education and to the compelling demands of the now.

Rearrange.

I begin by erasing a couple unnecessary pieces of my app's homepage, the summary and the sidebar, and collapse the codebase index; these seem to only occupy space with no purpose.

As I record my source changes I realize that this new deployment machine needs a copy, because I am unable to push my code.

• I double-check that I can access the machine using ssh, to the public ip address.
• I double-check that I opened the router port (UDP 60001) needed by Mosh.
• I've already loaded in some code under share/gram/: nue, nux, mech, and pool. These are my baseline programs that I can use to quickly push programs into place.
• mkcd share/gram/op; c init on the domain machine.
• on local, cd share/gram/op; c r set-url share nixos@<public-ip>:share/gram/op; c k
• check that gram:op has a basic public copy.

Preliminaries: loading baseline code.

A number of days ago I breezed through some preliminaries on this machine.

I've already loaded in some code under share/gram/: nue, nux, mech, and pool. These are my baseline programs that I can use to quickly push programs into place.

Here's how this happened; these are copied from a raspberry pi's ~/.bash_history and ~/.config/nushell/history.txt, as I ran through a similar process.

These logs are redundant because many of the commands failed, and needed to be rephrased or re-run after changing a config. They are here so a full and more concise deployment guide can be made someday, by slicing through to the core commands.

          git diff
sudo rm -r /etc/nixos
sudo ln -s /home/nixos/.nux /etc/nixos
nix flake update
hx ~/.config/nixpkgs/config.nix
mkdir ~/.config/nix/
mkdir -p ~/.config/nix/
hx ~/.config/nix/nix.conf
nix flake update
hx flake.nix 
nix flake update
sudo nixos-rebuild --flake /etc/nixos/#pebble
sudo nixos-rebuild --flake /etc/nixos/#pebble build
ls -alD /etc/nixos
cd /etc/nixos
sudo nixos-rebuild --flake .#pebble build
hx flake.nix
hx cell/pebble/index.nix 
sudo nixos-rebuild --flake .#pebble build
ls /dev/disk/by-uuid/
hx cell/pebble/index.nix 
sudo nixos-rebuild --flake .#pebble build
hx cell/pebble/index.nix 
sudo nixos-rebuild --flake .#pebble build
sudo nixos-rebuild --flake .#pebble switch
hx .
sudo nixos-rebuild --flake .#pebble switch
hx .
sudo nixos-rebuild --flake .#pebble switch
sudo passwd
passwd
sudo nixos-rebuild --flake .#pebble switch
reboot
nix-shell -p elixir --run iex
hop home
ls .nue
nix-shell -p elixir --run iex
nix-shell -p elixir --run iex
ls -a
date
wget https://share.operand.online/gram/nux/?download=tar_gz
nsh wget wget https://share.operand.online/gram/nux/?download=tar_gz
nix-shell -p wget --run wget https://share.operand.online/gram/nux/?download=tar_gz
nix-shell -p wget --run 'wget https://share.operand.online/gram/nux/?download=tar_gz'
nix-shell -p gnutar --run 'tar -xzvf ./index.html?download=tar_gz'
mv nux .nux
nix-shell -p wget --run 'wget https://share.operand.online/gram/nux/?download=tar_gz -O nux.tar.gz'
mv index.html\?download\=tar_gz nux.tar.gz
nix-shell -p wget --run 'wget https://share.operand.online/gram/nue/?download=tar_gz -O nue.tar.gz'
nix-shell -p gnutar --run 'tar -xzvf ./nue.tar.gz'
nix-shell -p wget --run 'wget https://share.operand.online/gram/mech/?download=tar_gz -O mech.tar.gz'; nix-shell -p gnutar --run 'tar -xzvf ./mech.tar.gz'
ls mech
mv nue .nue
ls nue
sudo chown nixos nue
ls nue
sudo chown -R nixos nue
ls -al
ls .nux
ls .nue
ls mech
nix-shell -p wget --run 'wget https://share.operand.online/gram/mech/?download=tar_gz -O mech.tar.gz'; nix-shell -p gnutar --run 'tar -xzvf ./mech.tar.gz'; mv mech .mech
nix-shell -p wget --run 'wget https://share.operand.online/gram/mech/?download=tar_gz -O mech.tar.gz'; nix-shell -p gnutar --run 'tar -xzvf ./mech.tar.gz'; mv mech .mech
rm mech.tar.gz mech; nix-shell -p wget --run 'wget https://share.operand.online/gram/mech/?download=tar_gz -O mech.tar.gz'; nix-shell -p gnutar --run 'tar -xzvf ./mech.tar.gz'; mv mech .mech
rm mech.tar.gz mech; nix-shell -p wget --run 'wget https://share.operand.online/gram/mech/?download=tar_gz -O mech.tar.gz'; nix-shell -p gnutar --run 'tar -xzvf ./mech.tar.gz'; mv mech .mech
rm mech.tar.gz mech; nix-shell -p wget --run 'wget https://share.operand.online/gram/mech/?download=zip -O mech.zip'
hx mech.zip 
ls -al mech.zip 
rm mech.zip
sudo ls /etc/nixos/
ls /etc
ls /etc/nixos/
nixos-generate-config
sudo nixos-generate-config
sudo cp /etc/nixos/hardware-configuration.nix ~/.nux/cell/pebble/machine.nix
cd .nux
git status
nix-shell -p git
nix-shell -p git helix

          

          rm -r ~/.config/nushell; ln -s ~/.nue ~/.config/nushell
ls ~/.config/nushell/
session hop
hx ~/.nue/page.nu
hx ~/.nue/media.nu
atuin init nushell
mkdir ~/.local/share/atuin
atuin init nu | save ~/.local/share/atuin/init.nu
$env.NU_VERSION
hx ~/.local/share/atuin/init.nu
zoxide init nu | save ~/.zoxide.nu
zoxide init nushell | save ~/.zoxide.nu
starship init nu
starship init nu | save ~/.cache/starship/init.nu
nsh elixir iex
sudo nix-channel --add https://nixos.org/channels/nixpkgs-stable nixos
sudo nix-channel --update
ip a
hx /etc/nixos
hostname
x -r
hx /etc/nixos
x -r
x
hx /etc/nixos
h -r
x
rg hypr cell
ag hypr cell
grep hypr
x -r
pwd
ls
c s
clear
ls
nsh elixir iex
sudo nix-channel --add https://nixos.org/channels/nixpkgs-stable nixos
sudo nix-channel --update
ip a
date
date now
zellij action dump-session
zellij action dump-layout
zellij action dump-layout | save ~/.config/zellij/session/home.kdl
zellij attach -c home
hop home
mkdir ~/.config/zellij/session
zellij action dump-layout | save ~/.config/zellij/session/home.kdl
zellij attach -c home
hop home
date now
sudo nix-channel --update
cycle { date now }
sudo nix-channel --update
sudo ntpdate
h
date now
x
date now
sudo ntpdate time.nist.gov
sudo systemctl stop ntpdate
h -r
http get https://python.org
ping python.org
ping nixos.org
ip a
x
iex
which elixir
h
iex
mkcd relay
cd ..
rmdir relay
mix new relay
cd relay
hx mix.exs
iex -S mix
mix deps.get
iex -S mix
mix compile
http get https://share.operand.online/gram/op/flake.nix
http get https://share.operand.online/gram/op/flake.nix | save flake.nix
hx flake.nix
nd mix compile
hx flake.nix
mix compile
nd mix compile
hx flake.nix
nd mix compile
hx flake.nix
nd mix compile
hx flake.nix
nd mix compile
iex -S mix
hx ~/.bash_history ~/.config/nushell/history.txt
x
ip a
x

          

Upgrading Node Packages

NodeJS is infamous for "dependency hell", a condition where a full day or occasionally a week can be expended in researching how packages have been upgraded, and how each package depends on others.

For this essay, i'm hoping to use the collapsible feature of DaisyUI, and I saw that the package had an upgrade. As I tried to upgrade that package, I began seeing myself pulled into a dependency hell loop. Here are the immediate symptoms;

error Invariant Violation: expected workspace package to exist for "eslint"
error Invariant Violation: expected workspace package to exist for "ts-jest"
error Invariant Violation: expected workspace package to exist for "@babel/plugin-bugfix-firefox-class-in-computed-class-key"
error Invariant Violation: expected workspace package to exist for "@babel/plugin-bugfix-safari-class-field-initializer-scope"
error Invariant Violation: expected workspace package to exist for "@babel/plugin-bugfix-safari-id-destructuring-collision-in-function-expression"
error Invariant Violation: expected workspace package to exist for "@eslint/plugin-kit"
error Invariant Violation: expected workspace package to exist for "minimatch"
error Invariant Violation: expected workspace package to exist for "glob"    at invariant (/nix/store/8j2jw3v2vzjl9z4xkw2m9xsqxaxzdw89-yarn-1.22.22/libexec/yarn/lib/cli.js:2318:15)
error Invariant Violation: expected workspace package to exist for "@babel/cli"
error Invariant Violation: expected workspace package to exist for "@eslint/config-array"

Each one of these lines indicates one-or-more runs of yarn install, after changing the dependency index inside gram:op/assets/package.json; each of these errors also required me to head to npm, and search for the missing package so I could include the proper recent version number. This was a failing method, and new problems kept appearing.

I realized a more dominant error was higher in the logs, preceding these "invariant violations": the "unmet peer dependency".

warning " > @babel/plugin-bugfix-firefox-class-in-computed-class-key@7.28.5" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning " > @babel/plugin-bugfix-safari-class-field-initializer-scope@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning " > @babel/preset-env@7.29.5" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-bugfix-firefox-class-in-computed-class-key@7.28.5" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-bugfix-safari-class-field-initializer-scope@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-bugfix-safari-id-destructuring-collision-in-function-expression@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-bugfix-safari-rest-destructuring-rhs-array@7.29.3" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-bugfix-v8-spread-parameters-in-optional-chaining@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.13.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-bugfix-v8-static-class-fields-redefine-readonly@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > babel-plugin-polyfill-corejs2@0.4.17" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.4.0 || ^8.0.0-0 <8.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > babel-plugin-polyfill-corejs2@0.4.17" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.4.0 || ^8.0.0-0 <8.0.0".warning "@babel/preset-env > babel-plugin-polyfill-regenerator@0.6.8" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.4.0 || ^8.0.0-0 <8.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > babel-plugin-polyfill-corejs2 > @babel/helper-define-polyfill-provider@0.6.8" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.4.0 || ^8.0.0-0 <8.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > babel-plugin-polyfill-corejs2 > @babel/helper-define-polyfill-provider@0.6.8" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.4.0 || ^8.0.0-0 <8.0.0".warning " > postcss-import@16.1.1" has unmet peer dependency "postcss@^8.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > babel-plugin-polyfill-corejs3@0.14.2" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.4.0 || ^8.0.0-0 <8.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > babel-plugin-polyfill-corejs3@0.14.2" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.4.0 || ^8.0.0-0 <8.0.0".warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-async-to-generator > @babel/helper-remap-async-to-generator@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > babel-plugin-polyfill-corejs3 > @babel/helper-define-polyfill-provider@0.6.8" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.4.0 || ^8.0.0-0 <8.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > babel-plugin-polyfill-regenerator@0.6.8" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.4.0 || ^8.0.0-0 <8.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-proposal-private-property-in-object@7.21.0-placeholder-for-preset-env.2" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-syntax-import-assertions@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-syntax-import-attributes@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-syntax-unicode-sets-regex@7.18.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-syntax-unicode-sets-regex > @babel/helper-create-regexp-features-plugin@7.28.5" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-syntax-unicode-sets-regex > @babel/helper-create-regexp-features-plugin@7.28.5" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-class-static-block > @babel/helper-create-class-features-plugin@7.29.3" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-arrow-functions@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-async-generator-functions@7.29.0" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-async-generator-functions > @babel/helper-remap-async-to-generator@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-async-to-generator@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-async-to-generator > @babel/helper-remap-async-to-generator@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-block-scoped-functions@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-block-scoping@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-classes@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-classes > @babel/helper-replace-supers@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-class-properties@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-class-properties > @babel/helper-create-class-features-plugin@7.29.3" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-class-static-block@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.12.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-class-static-block > @babel/helper-create-class-features-plugin@7.29.3" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-computed-properties@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-destructuring@7.28.5" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-dotall-regex@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-duplicate-keys@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-duplicate-named-capturing-groups-regex@7.29.0" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-dynamic-import@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-explicit-resource-management@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-exponentiation-operator@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-export-namespace-from@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-for-of@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-function-name@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-json-strings@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-literals@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-logical-assignment-operators@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-member-expression-literals@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-modules-amd@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-modules-amd > @babel/helper-module-transforms@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-modules-commonjs@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-modules-commonjs > @babel/helper-module-transforms@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-modules-systemjs@7.29.4" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-modules-umd@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-modules-umd > @babel/helper-module-transforms@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-named-capturing-groups-regex@7.29.0" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-new-target@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-nullish-coalescing-operator@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-numeric-separator@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-object-rest-spread@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-object-super@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-optional-catch-binding@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-optional-chaining@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-parameters@7.27.7" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-private-methods@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-private-methods > @babel/helper-create-class-features-plugin@7.29.3" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-private-property-in-object@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-property-literals@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-regenerator@7.29.0" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-regexp-modifiers@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-reserved-words@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-shorthand-properties@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-spread@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-sticky-regex@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-template-literals@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-typeof-symbol@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-unicode-escapes@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-unicode-property-regex@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-unicode-regex@7.27.1" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-unicode-regex > @babel/helper-create-regexp-features-plugin@7.28.5" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/plugin-transform-unicode-sets-regex@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-env > @babel/preset-modules@0.1.6-no-external-plugins" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0 || ^8.0.0-0 <8.0.0".
warning " > @babel/preset-typescript@7.28.5" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-typescript > @babel/plugin-syntax-jsx@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-typescript > @babel/plugin-transform-modules-commonjs@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-typescript > @babel/plugin-transform-modules-commonjs > @babel/helper-module-transforms@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-typescript > @babel/plugin-transform-typescript@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning "@babel/preset-typescript > @babel/plugin-transform-typescript > @babel/helper-create-class-features-plugin@7.29.3" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-typescript > @babel/plugin-transform-typescript > @babel/helper-create-class-features-plugin > @babel/helper-replace-supers@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning "@babel/preset-typescript > @babel/plugin-transform-typescript > @babel/plugin-syntax-typescript@7.28.6" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
warning: Git tree '/home/calliope/share/gram/op' is dirty
warning " > postcss-import@16.1.1" has unmet peer dependency "postcss@^8.0.0".
warning " > ts-jest@29.4.9" has unmet peer dependency "jest@^29.0.0 || ^30.0.0".
warning " > ts-jest@29.4.9" has unmet peer dependency "typescript@>=4.3 <7".
warning " > ts-jest@29.4.9" has unmet peer dependency "typescript@>=4.3 <7".warning " > vite-plugin-babel@1.6.0" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".
warning " > vite-plugin-babel@1.6.0" has unmet peer dependency "@babel/core@^7.0.0".

If you take these ~100 errors, place them in a helix buffer, place a cursor on each line, skim to the third quote, and erase the preceding phrase, you have ~100 lines of only the peer dependencies that are being called for. If you then select the full buffer and run :pipe sort , you can see the minimal requirements:

"@babel/core@^7.0.0".
"@babel/core@^7.0.0-0".
"@babel/core@^7.0.0-0 || ^8.0.0-0 <8.0.0".
"@babel/core@^7.12.0".
"@babel/core@^7.13.0".
"@babel/core@^7.4.0 || ^8.0.0-0 <8.0.0".
"jest@^29.0.0 || ^30.0.0".
"postcss@^8.0.0".
"typescript@>=4.3 <7".

try {rm -r deps assets/node_modules}
nd mix deps.get
nd yarn install --cwd assets
nd mix assets.build

This really did nothing for me; after going through the process I had remaining invariant violations, and my package.json was expanding beyond means.

Before:

{
  "private": true,
  "workspaces": [
    "../deps/*"
  ],
  "dependencies": {
    "daisyui": "^5.5",
    "phoenix": "workspace:*",
    "phoenix_html": "workspace:*",
    "phoenix_live_view": "workspace:*",
    "postcss-import": "^16.1",
    "tailwindcss": "^4.3",
    "theme-change": "^2.5",
    "topbar": "^3.0",
    "vite": "^8.0",
  }
}

an hour in:

{
  "private": true,
  "workspaces": [
    "../deps/*"
  ],
  "dependencies": {
    "@babel/core": "^7.0",
    "@babel/preset-env": "^7.29",
    "@eslint/config-array": "*",
    "@eslint/plugin-kit": "*",
    "@jest/reporters": "*",
    "@tailwindcss/vite": "^4.3",
    "daisyui": "^5.5",
    "eslint": "^10.3",
    "glob": "^13.0",
    "json5": "*",
    "minimatch": "^10.2",
    "phoenix": "workspace:*",
    "phoenix_html": "workspace:*",
    "phoenix_live_view": "workspace:*",
    "postcss": "^8",
    "postcss-import": "^16.1",
    "tailwindcss": "^4.3",
    "theme-change": "^2.5",
    "topbar": "^3.0",
    "typescript": "^6.0",
    "vite": "^8.0"
  }
}

Re-sparking

I rigged up most of my JS-compiler procedure using phoenix_vite, and this package includes an Igniter module to spark the necessary code and configs. I decide to erase the package.json index and begin again.

➜ rm package.json
➜ rm assets/yarn.lock
➜ nd mix igniter.install phoenix_vite

warning: Git tree '/home/calliope/share/gram/op' is dirty
checking for igniter in project ✔
Updating project's igniter dependency ✔
compiling igniter ✔
compile ✔
Dependency phoenix_vite is already in mix.exs. Should we replace it?

Desired: `{:phoenix_vite, "~> 0.4"}`
Found: `{:phoenix_vite, "~> 0.4.3"}`
 [Y/n] n
`phoenix_vite.install` x

Issues:

* assets/vite.config.mjs: File already exists
* Cannot move priv/static/corp/dlcp.cert.pdf to assets/public/corp/dlcp.cert.pdf, as assets/public/corp/dlcp.cert.pdf already exists.
* Cannot move priv/static/corp/2024-04-21.dlcp.png to assets/public/corp/2024-04-21.dlcp.png, as assets/public/corp/2024-04-21.dlcp.png already exists.
* Cannot move priv/static/corp/dlcp.CorpForProfitDomesticInitialFiling.pdf to assets/public/corp/dlcp.CorpForProfitDomesticInitialFiling.pdf, as assets/public/corp/dlcp.CorpForProfitDomesticInitialFiling.pdf already exists.
* Cannot move priv/static/cache_manifest.json to assets/public/cache_manifest.json, as assets/public/cache_manifest.json already exists.
* Cannot move priv/static/corp/CP575Notice_1704499942839.pdf to assets/public/corp/CP575Notice_1704499942839.pdf, as assets/public/corp/CP575Notice_1704499942839.pdf already exists.
* Cannot move priv/static/images/favicon.ico to assets/public/images/favicon.ico, as assets/public/images/favicon.ico already exists.
* Cannot move priv/static/robots.txt to assets/public/robots.txt, as assets/public/robots.txt already exists.
* Cannot move priv/static/images/logo.svg to assets/public/images/logo.svg, as assets/public/images/logo.svg already exists.
* Cannot move priv/static/fonts/fa-solid-900.ttf to assets/public/fonts/fa-solid-900.ttf, as assets/public/fonts/fa-solid-900.ttf already exists.
* Cannot move priv/static/images/screen.png to assets/public/images/screen.png, as assets/public/images/screen.png already exists.

➜ try { rm -r assets/vite.config.mjs priv/static assets/package.json assets/yarn.lock }
➜ nd mix igniter.install phoenix_vite

These folders will be created:

/assets/public


These files will be removed:

* assets/vendor/daisyui-theme.js
* assets/vendor/daisyui.js
* assets/vendor/topbar.js


The following installer was found and executed: `phoenix_vite.install` - Warnings:

* Failed to remove dependency :esbuild from `mix.exs`.

  Please remove the old dependency manually.

* Failed to remove dependency :tailwind from `mix.exs`.

  Please remove the old dependency manually.



These tasks will be run after the above changes:

* deps.clean --unlock --unused esbuild
* deps.clean --unlock --unused tailwind
* assets.setup

Warning! Uncommitted git changes detected in the project.

You may want to save these changes and rerun this command.
This ensures that you can run `git reset` to undo the changes.

Output of `git status -s --porcelain`:

 D assets/package.json
 D assets/vite.config.mjs
 D assets/yarn.lock
 M config/dev.exs
 M config/prod.exs
 M config/runtime.exs
 M flake.lock
 M flake.nix
 M lib/op_web/live/chronicle/show.ex
 M lib/op_web/router.ex
 M lib/render.ex
 M mix.exs
 M mix.lock
 D priv/static/images/logo.svg


Proceed with changes?
 [Y/n] y
Resolving Hex dependencies...
Resolution completed in 0.274s
Unchanged:
  bandit 1.11.0
  cachex 4.1.1
  call 0.0.2
  db_connection 2.10.1
  decimal 3.1.0
  dns_cluster 0.2.0
  earmark_parser 1.4.44
  eternal 1.2.2
  ex_ast 0.11.2
  ex_doc 0.40.2
  ex_hash_ring 6.0.4
  ex_heroicons 3.1.0
  expo 1.1.1
  file_system 1.1.1
  finch 0.22.0
  floki 0.38.1
  gettext 0.26.2
  git_cli 0.3.0
  glob_ex 0.1.11
  hpax 1.0.3
  igniter 0.8.0
  jason 1.4.5
  jumper 1.0.2
  live_debugger 0.3.2
  lumis 0.5.0
  makeup 1.2.1
  makeup_elixir 1.0.1
  makeup_erlang 1.1.0
  mdex 0.12.2
  mime 2.0.7
  mint 1.8.0
  nimble_options 1.1.1
  nimble_parsec 1.4.2
  nimble_pool 1.1.0
  owl 0.13.0
  phoenix 1.8.7
  phoenix_html 4.3.0
  phoenix_html_helpers 1.0.1
  phoenix_live_dashboard 0.8.7
  phoenix_live_reload 1.6.2
  phoenix_live_view 1.1.30
  phoenix_pubsub 2.2.0
  phoenix_template 1.0.4
  phoenix_vite 0.4.3
  plug 1.19.1
  plug_crypto 2.1.1
  postgrex 0.22.2
  req 0.5.17
  rewrite 1.3.0
  rustler_precompiled 0.9.0
  sleeplocks 1.1.4
  sobelow 0.14.1
  sourceror 1.12.0
  spitfire 0.3.11
  telemetry 1.4.2
  telemetry_metrics 1.1.0
  telemetry_poller 1.3.0
  text_diff 0.1.0
  thousand_island 1.4.3
  tox 0.2.3
  unsafe 1.0.2
  websock 0.5.3
  websock_adapter 0.5.9
  yamerl 0.10.0
  yaml_elixir 2.12.1
  yaml_front_matter 1.0.0
All dependencies are up to date
** (File.Error) could not remove file "assets/vendor/daisyui-theme.js": no such file or directory
    (elixir 1.18.4) lib/file.ex:1222: File.rm!/1
    (elixir 1.18.4) lib/enum.ex:987: Enum."-each/2-lists^foreach/1-0-"/2
    (igniter 0.8.0) lib/igniter.ex:1253: Igniter.do_or_dry_run/2
    (igniter 0.8.0) lib/igniter/util/install.ex:211: Igniter.Util.Install.run_installers/5
    (mix 1.18.4) lib/mix/task.ex:495: anonymous fn/3 in Mix.Task.run_task/5
    (mix 1.18.4) lib/mix/cli.ex:107: Mix.CLI.run_task/2
    /nix/store/4nvnygngnha29ycn4lilh5iazc6hikff-elixir-1.18.4/bin/mix:2: (file)

So, an error appears after much helpful guidance. good enough. obey guidance.

I check mix.exs and see there is no dependency on esbuild or tailwindcss. odd. Maybe my dependencies are old.

➜ try { rm -r deps }; nd mix deps.update --all
➜ try { rm -r assets/vendor assets/vite.config.mjs priv/static assets/package.json assets/yarn.lock }; nd mix igniter.install phoenix_vite

This final error occurred again,

** (File.Error) could not remove file "assets/vendor/daisyui-theme.js": no such file or directory

so I added some quirky placeholder-insertions into my command:

[ assets/vendor assets/vite.config.mjs priv/static assets/package.json assets/yarn.lock ] | each {|n| try { rm -r $n } }
[ assets/vendor/daisyui-theme.js
] | each { mkdir ($in | path dirname); touch $in; }
nd mix igniter.install phoenix_vite

This also failed.

Why was I doing all this?

I remembered the reason - I planned to make those code snippets above accordion-able. This is not worth the hours of dependency upgrades. I was miserable and pulled in so deep.

One source of my misery here is that I am currently supposed to be in DC; these computer upgrades have had me pegged to the desk for 24 hours longer than planned, and there's more hardware issues to address before I go. I need to pull back out of this unplanned upgrade cycle.

Undue.

I run c co -b vite, making a branch for my changes. I run cap, my alias for git add -p.

Anything to do with these dependency upgrades goes into the branch.

I commit, then change back to main. Clean branch.

As I try to rebuild again and reclaim the normal experience, I see a line inside mix.exs for installing dependencies. yarn install --production.

I run:

nd yarn install --cwd assets --production

Success. Goddamn, one missing option this whole day.

Resume, deploy.

So, up and running locally. Yay? Seems like a small consolation. Now I need to log on to the lab and proxy the code to the domain.

Begin by seeing if I can push the changes, to [gram:op] and [gram:page].

I had some code to help on this, inside [gram:nue/gram.nu] (naming issue?) though that's basically useless now, obscured through many broken layers.

➜ c r set-url share nixos@76.112.8.171:unshare/page
➜ c k share
Enumerating objects: 5, done.
Counting objects: 100% (5/5), done.
Delta compression using up to 24 threads
Compressing objects: 100% (3/3), done.
Writing objects: 100% (3/3), 548 bytes | 548.00 KiB/s, done.
Total 3 (delta 1), reused 0 (delta 0), pack-reused 0 (from 0)
remote: error: refusing to update checked out branch: refs/heads/main
remote: error: By default, updating the current branch in a non-bare repository
remote: is denied, because it will make the index and work tree inconsistent
remote: with what you pushed, and will require 'git reset --hard' to match
remote: the work tree to HEAD.
remote:
remote: You can set the 'receive.denyCurrentBranch' configuration variable
remote: to 'ignore' or 'warn' in the remote repository to allow pushing into
remote: its current branch; however, this is not recommended unless you
remote: arranged to update its work tree to match what you pushed in some
remote: other way.
remote:
remote: To squelch this message and still keep the default behaviour, set
remote: 'receive.denyCurrentBranch' configuration variable to 'refuse'.
To 76.112.8.171:unshare/page
 ! [remote rejected] main -> main (branch is currently checked out)
error: failed to push some refs to '76.112.8.171:unshare/page'

I'm in Michigan again, after being engrossed in the proceedings of the 2026 Code for America Summit in Chicago. The main lesson? Where government meets technology, there is only room for CEOs or politicians to speak up. The old party, -on'line.

The corollary to this lesson seems to be, that there is no place to mention the foreign or domestic humanitarian implications of the current US federal policies. No mention of our national commerce in munitions, or aggression aimed at the ruling bodies of neighboring peoples. No dialogue to address policies, only to accomodate their implementation.

Here's some background on my relationship with the organization; copied from my recent cover letter to them in an application from January.

I remember the long run of Wednesday nights that I spent at CfA headquarters in SoMa, before I ever applied to be a fellow, pushing along on the program at Code for San Francisco (now called SF Civic Tech). The next year, as a fellow in Seattle, we had a chance to speak to Open Seattle. Years on, I checked in on Code for Philly. They turned me away that night, because I had forgotten to bring my vaccination card. Ironically, by then my vaccination card was being signed by a medical officer in the House of Representatives.

Zoom into the middle of that span, though - and during the pandemic I also honed in on Chi Hack Night, and Lansing Codes. This was a challenging moment for all of us, because the organization where we had found a home seemed to be closing the doors on its most public forum, the brigades. I had one good idea of what could happen, though none of us had any idea of all that would.

More than any other group, Code for America had seemed like a philosophical approach; their name appears to command, or demand, the action they seek. "Code, now! for America!"

Now, rather than being read as an order, their name displays as a menu, only a single option: "Code, for America, from Anthropic AI. Constitution included, deliberation unnecessary."

Code for America announced their recent partnership with Claude; and I am saddened beyond measure to see the consequences clear as day.

CfA has become a handy vehicle, a ship, to package and bundle through the procurement issues for municipal, state, and federal agencies seeking access to AI products as a guarantee for early, phased-in retirement. Now, the AI that Anthropic has been selling is going to be packaged cleanly, in vibe-coded and tailored-to-size apps for one purpose or another; from food aid to, someday, automated evictions; including those conducted at gunpoint, or remotely by missile.

"The strategy is delivery", after all, in a nation whose primary product is munitions.

How much is able to be cleanly disposed of, brushed under the rug of "AI policy"? How many people shall be disenfranchised from an education in the nuances of policymaking, and equally so from learning of the machinery that is here to replace policymaking?

There had once been room for the audience to draft plans; now we are asked to calmly take our chairs in the lecture hall. How many of these people, barred from taking action to care for their future in a direct manner, aching from the numbness of shepherding inhuman agents, discouraged from composing a real decision when a machine could describe a similar one, are going to finally be eager for the role-model guidance they've so far been lacking, when it lands upon them in the form of a military draft notice?

Through the many main-stage discussions, rather than dialogues, a common theme had been how to "catalyze and scale our impact"; how some people were still "searching for a magic bullet"; how to measure the consequences when "an impact lands". Nobody seemed to notice that this language is an echo of the explosions, produced and sold by US companies as clean, slick, packaged missiles, aimed at people also disenfranchised by their rulers. Perhaps the "catalyzed reactions" our conference leaders are searching for happens to be the white phosphorous being deployed in Lebanon by Israel, our supposed national ally.

My problem with Code for America has been their lack of public engagement. Before 2021, the organization had been a hub of discussion through the nation, because of the local brigades who circulated ideas day in and day out. When Jennifer Pahlka handed the reigns over, and the organization decided to abandon their grassroots base, they became fully closed to ideas from the public. There seemed to be a cost-benefit decision at play - the cost of moderating discussion boards full of active engineers seemed to surpass the benefit of a thousand considerate and concerned coders, thoroughly embodying the mission of the organization, engaging in local action in hundreds of municipalities - in and beyond the USA.

Sadly, this could be flipped around easily. Bring an engineer rather than a CEO onto the stage, and we may be reaching through to the demands and clear direction that solidarity groups have been promoting for decades, normally unheard: open access to the means of production.

In this hype cycle, AI is the product; the means of production is access to the underlying, open-source mechanisms:

• the vector databases,
• the encoding models,
• the decoding models,
• the tokenization models,
• the similarity search engines,
• the graph databases for mapping knowledge,

the many pieces whose "sum of the parts" is called AI, though which each in measured additions or absence in a product form the desired recipe that is called for on one occasion or another. An example? You can make more humane decisions by handing a case-manager direct access to a knowledge graph (basically imagine Notion or AirTable), rather than obscuring the facts of the case through an encoder (email correspondence -> assumed facts), and a decoder (recorded facts -> assumed conclusion and irrevocable consequence).

The one session I did find some solace in though, was the discussion of the group collaborating with IRS direct file; they open-sourced their "fact graph" of dependencies for IRS tax return forms. For more research and open-source programming along those lines, see PolicyEngine.

I made a small proposal to a colleague in the first breakout room of the conference, to examine how often we would hear the phrase "AI" compared to "vector database"; the concluding ratio was as predicted, many-to-zero.

These CEOs charging headlong into the camera lens on stage know that their product is made of a delicate balance of internal mechanisms, that a small shuffle from one direction to another, a dialing in of temperature, can produce the difference between a swell of emergency housing response and a cascade of evictions when people become a problem. The logic of resettlement can be run from a single dial: "Population from 11 to 3, please."

This experiment has played out before, during the election cycle for John F Kennedy, in a corporation called Simulmatics. Simulmatics built a "People Machine" for the 1952 presidential election, which predicted the electoral consequence of polling inputs.

Our modern "People Machine" goes much deeper than polling numbers - it has a full model of the language used to relate and grasp hold of our emotions. How real can this "People Machine" be when making humane decisions, and how shell-shocking the consequences when they fail to comprehend that the've been raised, and hired, in the absence of humanity?

Contasia, Arlene, Amanda;

I'm on the road to DC and then NYC today after Chicago. I had been either been eager or dreading the summit for months, and I'm sorry to see how the days played out.

My paranoias played a serious role, of course, and my physical exhaustion and lack of company. There seem to be few friends remaining after so many years of changes.

Your organization's productions are emotionally charged for me, especially once again seeing old partners-in-crim(inal justice) amplifying messages that seem designed to keep people in their proper camp.

I hope this opens discussion, and I hope to begin helping those left behind. https://operand.online/chronicle/cfa.2026

To begin a dialogue, if you choose to respond, I'd ask how government is "for the people, by the people" - if the only programming skills on the menu are "Discrete Logic 211" fact-graphs, and the user manual collection for Anthropic products?

I'm glad to see your user researhers are reaching new depths in the Grand Canyon, though for us subscribed to the Baltimore PD's media relations list, the daily shooting briefings imply we cannot do so much to  keep our heads down.

If your purpose is to ensure policies are delivered as ordered, please consider how damnable those orders can be.

(Once again,)
Peace,
Calliope Y

in Proton Mail,  confer@operand.online
in Signal,       c4lliope.**
in secure,       202-***-****

Legal research in the USA is fully dependent on two products; Lexis Nexis and WestLaw - these both use incredible fees to keep out small business and independent researchers, in essence producing a scarcity of the most crucial resource in any democracy: a basic comprehension of the legal rules of the game. Layers of academia and law have been designed to guard access to these resources, and in recent years we are all feeling the consequences - money alone buys access to the rulebook.

These companies build their program fully on public records, sourcing from the Library of Congress, GovInfo, the Code of Federal Regulations, and Harvard's more recent CaseLaw Access Project. These public records are the original framing of open-source; the public needs to access and learn from these same sources to either comply, or to change the rules that bind us.

See how simple web scrapers and advanced databases combine into an open-source replacement for the legal gridlock we're used to, and learn how to connect directly behind the scenes at Congress to the people publishing these records each day. This HOPE talk marks the release of a new public legal search engine - open source from the homelab hardware to the public records request.

Speaker Bio: Calliope Youngblood

Calliope has learned from a decade of experience including SF startups, national nonprofits, city governments, and the office of Clerk of the House of Representatives.

They were hired to the Clerk's office based on a prototype of this talk's app, made five years ago during a more sane administration. Since being fired by the Clerk for "too many prototypes" in 2023, Calliope has focused on running apps from home - using NixOS, NuShell, Elixir, and Rust. Each of these play a role in this open-source research program.

In 2026, Calliope is conference-hopping in a camper van as a cyber nomad, exploring hacker spaces and feeding open-mic musicians.

Appendix (the problem is real!)

"Search charges range from $0 to $469."

• LexisNexis "Law Firm Per Search Pricing"

Basic pricing reference for one user:

• Lexis Nexis ($150/mo)
• WestLaw ($1210/mo)

“Static Site Generation” is the process of rendering html from a codebase, where you can describe the pages succinctly using humane markup languages like Markdown. They are more secure than Wordpress or other dynamically-rendered content management systems, because any changes require access to the source code - in our case, permissions in the GitHub org. This thread is a place to explore libraries and themes.

Before the library dump, I should include that we could do interactive elements through iframes, including the popular giscus and utterances. These need nearly no management and can be easily moderated through GitHub issues; basically making our GitHub codebase a public discussion running parallel to this forum.

So, choices.

Zola builds domains using Rust. Some of these themes are more for blogging, but I think you may like some.

• serene
• zola-theme-nivis
• tanuki
• terminus
• zap
• apollo
• boring
• pico
• papermod
• zola-theme-terminimal
• juice
• shadharon
• papaya
• zola-386

Hugo is an option using Go (of course) (Themes)

• Newsroom has a nice look

Lume is popping up in the Deno land. (Themes)

Docusaurus is based on simple and approachable ideas, designed for readable guides.

Gatsby is Javascript & React. Discouraged, because things seem up in the air during an acquisition.

NextJS is popular, had a full hype cycle.

Quartz is like a knowledge base similar to Obsidian, but public on the web. Could be plugged on top of a wiki or some such arrangement.

Quarto is more for data dashboards, probably beyond scope. Same for Framework.

Deploys

GitHub can handle all of the publishing for us using GitHub actions; this takes less than an hour to set up, and then you never have to think of it again. If you do have to make changes, it’s easy to find people who have used it or can pick it up quickly.

Deno Deploy is a new option that is based on similar principles, and is designed for Lume or Fresh (below). I helped a friend deploy here once, and the process had been easy as can be. Requires a credit card on file for antispam purposes; their free plan is the most generous I’ve seen. They also support dynamic-rendered apps, which brings us to…

Bonus: Dynamic Rendering

I’m already dumping links, so here are directions to look if we outgrow SSG.

• WikiJS is a fully managed wiki with a one-line deploy. I’d recommend upgrading our wiki to this soon. Has serious benefits for content management.
• DataStar
• HTMX
• Deno Fresh
• Astro

Please bookmark ToS;DR. This is one of your main search engines this year.

Specifically, you are looking for rules in the theme of "data brokerage"; rules such as:

• Amazon's "Voice data is collected and shared with third-parties",
• Facebook's "Deleted content is not really deleted",
• Apple's "Your personal data may be disclosed to comply with government requests without notice to you",
• Reddit's "Tracking via third-party cookies for other purposes without your consent.",
• YouTube's "This service can view your browser history",
• Quora's "They store data on you even if you did not interact with the service",
• PayPal's "This service still tracks you even if you opted out from tracking"

These are only chosen from the homepage! You're responsible for searching the apps you use. Ignorance may be a popular excuse, but when apps sell your data, these are the buyers.

To begin, I use Brave.

Brave is more secure than normal; imagine Chrome with a bunch of the Google ripped out. This means any Google plugin runs in Brave.

Also, Firefox copied the plugins from Chrome, so you can probably find the same plugins in their web stores.

You may see plugins called "extensions"; that's a hairy issue.

Here are the plugins I use daily.

• uBlock Origin

  Blocks so many ads that some days I forget that most people still have ads. Also keeps me from clicking through on some clickbait.

• ToS;DR

  If you pin this to the menu bar, you'll see an A -> F letter grade for each domain. Click to read the main concerns before signing up, or flushing your cookies and running.

• Vimium (source)

  Move around and through pages using your keyboard alone. The mouse-to-keyboard loop is gradually breaking your mobility, so load this up and press ? on any page to see your new commands.

• Proton Pass (sign up!)

  You need a password manager that has encrypted sync, and your browser's built-in one is a cheap replica. As you use Proton Pass you'll be pleased to see the pop-ups for "passkeys", which enable one-click, no-pass logins.

• TabFS

  For the real hackers in the audience, because this plugin requires moving some config files around. When you're done though, you'll see a local file share that mirrors the open tabs in your browser. This plugin encouraged me to change from Firefox -> Brave, because independent plugin management is simpler in Chromium. Omar's one-page explanation is superb.

For podcasts, here are the phases I remember:

• bring speakers into a shared, recorded dialogue.
• arrange and clip recordings to size, drop any bloopers.
• record the sign-on and sign-off segments.
• (no ads to be concerned for here).
• overlay recognizable leading and trailing music clips.
• publish to RSS syndication.

Keeping these in mind, here's a process I'd recommend:

• (you may already have a good process); Hook up a Mumble room, and record per-track so each source is clear.
• Bring recordings into Audacity and mix as needed.
• Ardour is able to do many special effects for a higher learning curve.
• Need any video for a change? You can also use OSS. PiTiVi, KdenLive
• You'll be sharing many audio files! I'm looking to hook up RustFS or MinIO to as independent and scalable online storage.
• Each producer can use RClone or SyncThing to push and pull copies of the media, much like DropBox.

You can adopt these pieces one by one, beginning with Audacity perhaps. I'd like to help by running the Mumble relay, and setting up file sharing beyond the (assumed) normal Google Drive. As a bonus, during my link-grab I came across a business that Audacity recommends - Audio.com seems like they can handle publishing and syndication.

Look for the code on gram:nue/flash.nu.

Year-End Lab Problems!

I'm spending much of the holiday season in a small crisis, my mobility reduced by crucial repairs for a new camper I'll be using next year. As I camp on my friends' couch, a common theme in my career, I am held back from many of my aims because my domain seems to keep dropping offline; rather than heading back to Baltimore to cycle the machine once again, I'd like to come to grips with a more reliable deploy method.

Since mid-summer, the apps are running through a combination of two machines:

• pebble (a raspberry pi), running:
  • NixOS
  • a Nebula beacon ("lighthouse")
  • a WAN-to-LAN Caddy reverse-proxy
• baseboard (a mini-pc), running:
  • NixOS
  • a local Caddy reverse-proxy
  • miniserve
  • MicroVM.nix, managed by gram:pool
    • gram:op, through:
      • gram:pool/drop/op.nix
      • gram:pool/gram/elixir.nix

baseboard runs a couple other open-source programs, including immich as an image library, and traccar as a GPS logger. These are amazing programs for your lab, and help you upgrade your phone to "basically normal" with no dependency on Apple or Google.

These programs are possibly also the reasons that this computer is going offline, because each one is public and may include security errors or imperceptible backdoors. I am so incredibly bad at checking log files, at least until I hook up Grafana. They should probably be running hidden from the global internet, instead of my all-in approach of exposing each app under public subdomains.

Of course, I'm focused today on bringing the main app online again. I'm going to assume all of my machines are compromised, for a fun exercise.

Upgrading "Phase One".

One of the real missions of Operand is to reduce our dependency on so-called "cloud" resources.

For today's changes, I have two additional Framework Mainboard computers, ready to go.

One of them has an SSD onboard already, and this used to be a backup lab machine. I'll begin by backing up anything on that disc so we can re-image the OS and record the process from the beginning.

Normally, for a clean install of NixOS I'd begin by flashing an install disc - a "live image", onto a microSD card. I keep a case of around 30 spare microSDs, and nearly all of them are full of some install disc or other. The labeling is becoming a real problem.

To simplify this "phase one" process, I'd like to skip the SD cards and head directly to the m.2 NVMe SSD that I'll be booting the new computer from.

According to the NixOS "manual installation" guide I should be able to do this by erasing the disc, formatting it properly for a UEFI boot sequence, and then binding the disc to /mnt.

I copied the procedures described under "Partitioning > UEFI (GPT)", "Formatting", and "Installing" in the manual.

I then reorganize the partitions so their numbers are sequential. I add a couple additional partitions, nix and home, as an early basis for impermanence.

Because my shell of choice is Nushell, some of the commands have been broken into segments, passing the desired disc label into the main function to make the procedure more generic. I begin by sourcing three helper modules from gram:nue

#!/usr/bin/env nu
source ~/.nue/nix.nu
source ~/.nue/disc.nu
source ~/.nue/grammar.nu

let mem = '32GB'
let swap = [ ('-' + $mem) '100%' ]

let boot = [ '1MB' '512MB' ]
let nix = [ ($boot | last) '128GB' ]
let root = [ ($nix | last) '256GB' ]
let home = [ ($root | last) ($swap | first) ]

def part [disc: string, part: string = ''] { ($disc | into string) + $part }

def main [disc?: string, --recycle (-r) ] { timeit {
  unbind
  let disc = $disc | assure { "/dev/" + (disc choose) }
  nsh parted sudo parted $disc -- mklabel gpt

  nsh parted sudo parted $disc -- mkpart ESP fat32 ...($boot)
  nsh parted sudo parted $disc -- set 1 esp on
  sudo mkfs.fat -F 32 -n BOOT (part $disc 1)

  nsh parted sudo parted $disc -- mkpart nix ext4 ...($nix)
  sudo mkfs.ext4 -L nix (part $disc 2)

  nsh parted sudo parted $disc -- mkpart root ext4 ...($root)
  sudo mkfs.ext4 -L nixos (part $disc 3)

  nsh parted sudo parted $disc -- mkpart home ext4 ...($home)
  sudo mkfs.ext4 -L home (part $disc 4)

  nsh parted sudo parted $disc -- mkpart swap linux-swap ...($swap)
  sudo mkswap -L swap (part $disc 5)

  nsh parted sudo parted $disc -- p

  # mount discs!
  sudo mount (part $disc 3) /mnt
  sudo mkdir /mnt/boot; sudo mount -o umask=077 (part $disc 1) /mnt/boot
  sudo mkdir /mnt/nix;  sudo mount (part $disc 2) /mnt/nix
  sudo mkdir /mnt/home; sudo mount (part $disc 4) /mnt/home

  disc ls | where source =~ $disc | print
  tree -afFix /mnt
  "Copying in codebases." | print
  clone all
  unbind
  me
} }

def unbind [] {
  try { sudo umount /mnt/boot }
  try { sudo umount /mnt/nix }
  try { sudo umount /mnt/home }
  try { sudo umount /mnt }
}

The final lines run parted and then disc ls, as quick checks. We can run nu flash.nu /dev/sdb directly, or a simple nu flash.nu displays a choice of plugged-in discs.

Near the end of the command, we see the consequences:

➜ chmod +x flash.nu
➜ ./flash.nu
# ... subcommand logs

(parted)> sudo parted /dev/sdb -- p
Model: WDC WDS5 00G2B0C-00PXH0 (scsi)
Disk /dev/sdb: 500GB
Sector size (logical/physical): 512B/8192B
Partition Table: gpt
Disk Flags:

Number  Start   End    Size    File system     Name  Flags
 1      1051kB  512MB  511MB   fat32           ESP   boot, esp
 2      512MB   128GB  127GB   ext4            nix
 3      128GB   256GB  128GB   ext4            root
 4      256GB   468GB  212GB   ext4            home
 5      468GB   500GB  32.0GB  linux-swap(v1)  swap  swap

╭───┬───────────┬───────────┬────────┬──────╮
│ # │   bind    │  source   │ scheme │ name │
├───┼───────────┼───────────┼────────┼──────┤
│ 0 │ /mnt      │ /dev/sdb3 │ ext4   │ mnt  │
│ 1 │ /mnt/boot │ /dev/sdb1 │ vfat   │ boot │
│ 2 │ /mnt/nix  │ /dev/sdb2 │ ext4   │ nix  │
│ 3 │ /mnt/home │ /dev/sdb4 │ ext4   │ home │
╰───┴───────────┴───────────┴────────┴──────╯
/mnt/
/mnt/boot/
/mnt/home/
/mnt/lost+found/  [error opening dir]
/mnt/nix/

5 directories, 0 files

Add Operand's Code.

Day by day, I add code to a few programs (called grams in our lingo), used to make lab-management procedures much easier to handle.

The core of these programs, for those new here, lie in gram:nux (for NixOS code) and gram:nue (for Nushell code).

There is also gram:mech, which is probably crucial somehow, although less production-ready than the others. Used to be, all three of these were included in a single codebase, called gram:build - the pieces were unique enough to break them up.

def "clone home" [--user (-u): string = nixos] {
  let home = $"/mnt/home/($user)"
  if not ($home | path exists) { sudo mkdir $home }
}

def "clone base" [base: string, --user (-u): string = nixos] {
  let loc = $"/mnt/home/($user)/($base)"
  if ($loc | path exists) { print $"Oh no! ($loc) is already loaded."; return; }
  nsh gitoxide sudo gix clone $"~/($base)" $"/mnt/home/($user)/($base)"
}

def "clone loc" [base: path, --user (-u): string = nixos] {
  let loc = [ /mnt/home/ $user $base ] | path join
  nsh rsync sudo rsync -av ~/share (clone home -u $user)
}

def "clone all" [--user (-u): string = nixos] {
  clone home
  clone base .nue --user $user
  clone base .nux --user $user
  clone base .mech --user $user
  clone base page --user $user
  clone base diagram --user $user
  nsh rsync sudo rsync -av ~/share $"/mnt/home/($user)/"
}

Nix Machine Config?

Nix has a command to generate config files, and I'm skipping that recommended config because after two years, I know enough to rebuild the good pieces and skip the unnecessary.

The challenging piece here is the file commonly called hardware-configuration.nix; this specifies a number of boot options, alongside the disc labels and paths they should bind to during boot.

Lucky us, we're already working with those. Rather than the fickle /dev/sda and so on, we'll grab the device UUIDs, which should be reliable even when the disc is moved to a different machine.

def "label" [disc: string, part: any] {
  (ls /dev/disk/by-uuid).name | where {|id| ($id | path expand) == (part $disc $part) } | first
}

➜ source ~/disc/flash.nu; label /dev/sda 2
/dev/disk/by-uuid/bf6fd2e3-b0f2-44fe-99c5-9237ad751a48

I can use this helper to build up a new nix config, depending on the architecture of the processor and assuming our 5-partition scheme.

def "nix bind" [disc: string, part: int, bind: string, --form (-f): string = ext4] {
  $"fileSystems.''($bind)'' = { device = ''(label $disc $part
  )''; fsType = ''($form)''; };" | str replace -a "''" '"'
}

def "nix swap" [disc: string, part: int] {
  $"swapDevices = [
    { device = ''(label $disc $part)''; options = [ ''discard=once'' ]; }
  ];" | str replace -a "''" '"'
}

def "nix machine" [disc: string, arch: string, kernel: string] {
  ([ (nix preamble)
    (nix arch $arch $kernel)
    (nix bind $disc 1 "/boot" -f vfat)
    (nix bind $disc 2 "/nix")
    (nix bind $disc 3 "/")
    (nix bind $disc 4 "/home")
    (nix swap $disc 5)
  ] | flatten | each { "  " + $in } | str join "\n" | str trim) + "\n}\n"
}

def "nix preamble" [] {
'' + `{ config, lib, modulesPath, ... }:
{
  imports = [
    (modulesPath + "/installer/scan/not-detected.nix")
  ];

  boot.loader = { systemd-boot.enable = true; efi.canTouchEfiVariables = true; };
  boot.initrd.availableKernelModules = [ "xhci_pci" "thunderbolt" "nvme" "usb_storage" "usbhid" "sd_mod" ];
  boot.initrd.kernelModules = [ ];
  boot.extraModulePackages = [ ];
`  
}

def "nix arch" [arch: string, kernel: string] {
  [ $"nixpkgs.hostPlatform = lib.mkDefault \"($arch)-($kernel)\";" ] ++ (
  if ($arch == 'x86_64') { [
    "hardware.cpu.intel.updateMicrocode = lib.mkDefault config.hardware.enableRedistributableFirmware;"
    "boot.kernelModules = [ ''kvm-intel'' ];"
  ] } else {
    "boot.kernelModules = [];" })
}

This means a simple one-liner prepares the necessary machine.nix:

➜ source ~/disc/flash.nu; nix machine /dev/sda x86_64 linux

{ config, lib, modulesPath, ... }:
{
  imports = [
    (modulesPath + "/installer/scan/not-detected.nix")
  ];

  boot.loader = { systemd-boot.enable = true; efi.canTouchEfiVariables = true; };
  boot.initrd.availableKernelModules = [ "xhci_pci" "thunderbolt" "nvme" "usb_storage" "usbhid" "sd_mod" ];
  boot.initrd.kernelModules = [ ];
  boot.extraModulePackages = [ ];

  nixpkgs.hostPlatform = lib.mkDefault "x86_64-linux";
  hardware.cpu.intel.updateMicrocode = lib.mkDefault config.hardware.enableRedistributableFirmware;
  boot.kernelModules = [ ''kvm-intel'' ];
  fileSystems."/boot" = { device = "/dev/disk/by-uuid/D7F2-26FE"; fsType = "vfat"; };
  fileSystems."/nix" = { device = "/dev/disk/by-uuid/bf6fd2e3-b0f2-44fe-99c5-9237ad751a48"; fsType = "ext4"; };
  fileSystems."/" = { device = "/dev/disk/by-uuid/847b4009-0ae6-4219-9799-635092ea6879"; fsType = "ext4"; };
  fileSystems."/home" = { device = "/dev/disk/by-uuid/f425a3b1-82e6-4c3b-89f0-cbd85e952162"; fsType = "ext4"; };
  swapDevices = [
    { device = "/dev/disk/by-uuid/8c6c0ee0-9226-43e2-92fb-5adbef5225c9"; options = [ "discard=once" ]; }
  ];
}

Because of the odd permission scheme, we need to make a new shell to record this file inside our disc, overwriting the prior config.

sudo nu -c $"(nix machine ($disc) ($arch) ($kernel) | to nuon) | save -f '(clone home -u $user)/.nux/cell/($machine)/machine.nix'"

Now, we can add the kicker to the end of our main function;

  sudo nixos-install --flake $"(clone home -u $user)/.nux#($machine)"

Build, Error, and Rebuild.

From here on, I began running the code again and again. I added a rough idea of user accounts, and made sure the code to clone our codebases honors the chosen user.

I spent some hours seeing if I could cross-compile, because I have deployed nux configs on both x86_64 (intel) and aarch64 (arm) processors before. The problem seems deep, so I'm going to pull back. I can choose a pre-made config for arm or x86 on a case-by-case basis, the configs are similar enough.

There seems to be an incredible delay because gram:pool needs to be copied to the nix cache; this seems to depend on an 18.5 GB source directory, so the disc seems to take an endless span to build.

I displaced /pool/disc on my local computer, so nix should be able to proceed quicker - and yep!

Choose arch:    x86_64
Choose kernel:  linux
Choose machine: baseboard
warning: Git tree '/mnt/root/.nux' is dirty
warning: Git tree '/mnt/root/.nux' is dirty
copying channel...
building the flake in git+file:///mnt/root/.nux...
warning: Git tree '/mnt/root/.nux' is dirty
evaluation warning: You have set specialArgs.pkgs, which means that options like nixpkgs.config
                    and nixpkgs.overlays will be ignored. If you wish to reuse an already created
                    pkgs, which you know is configured correctly for this NixOS configuration,
                    please import the `nixosModules.readOnlyPkgs` module from the nixpkgs flake or
                    `(modulesPath + "/misc/nixpkgs/read-only.nix"), and set `{ nixpkgs.pkgs = <your pkgs>; }`.
                    This properly disables the ignored options to prevent future surprises.
evaluation warning: Using 'addressConfig' is deprecated! Move all attributes inside one level up and remove it.
evaluation warning: Using 'addressConfig' is deprecated! Move all attributes inside one level up and remove it.
evaluation warning: Using 'ipv6PrefixConfig' is deprecated! Move all attributes inside one level up and remove it.
installing the boot loader...
setting up /etc...
Created "/boot/EFI".
Created "/boot/EFI/systemd".
Created "/boot/EFI/BOOT".
Created "/boot/loader".
Created "/boot/loader/keys".
Created "/boot/loader/entries".
Created "/boot/EFI/Linux".
Copied "/nix/store/kiplbb6yv7rmjf21hf9ky01b9kmgmnqn-systemd-257.10/lib/systemd/boot/efi/systemd-bootx64.efi" to "/boot/EFI/systemd/systemd-bootx64.efi".
Copied "/nix/store/kiplbb6yv7rmjf21hf9ky01b9kmgmnqn-systemd-257.10/lib/systemd/boot/efi/systemd-bootx64.efi" to "/boot/EFI/BOOT/BOOTX64.EFI".
Random seed file /boot/loader/random-seed successfully written (32 bytes).
Created EFI boot entry "Linux Boot Manager".
setting up /etc...
setting up /etc...
setting root password...
New password:
Retype new password:
passwd: password updated successfully
installation finished!

Now to reboot and see...

Disc Label Problems.

All my nice code for binding disc labels to nix code seems to be... meh.

I guess I should say - and perhaps already did - that disc labels can be super fickle.

I spent around six build cycles trying to map the disc based on ID / UUID / label, by the disc and by the partition, and during the boot cycle none of these picked up. I have no idea how these labels are applied during phase one of nixos boot.

The piece I did know of is that my specific computer has an internal disc bay, and that shows up as /dev/nvme0n1. This had been my final chance at a boot sequence.

I re-coded the nix machine command to take an aim, and placed each partition according to the aim of the disc. This means that the boot is going to be much less generic than I'd hoped, and I do plan to come back to this problem, and look deeper at the phase one boot sequence.

For now, I chose nvme0n1p from the menu and imaged the disc. I ran shutdown now, opened the disc enclosure and my laptop, and exchanged the memory cards.

I pressed the power cycle, and held my breath.

The disc booted.

Epilogue.

For the remainder of the day I'm going to be in manual mode, because I need to be on the road soon as possible (as usual!). My main issues are to hook up networking, and then drop nebula certificates onto the machine so I can log in from anyplace.

From there, I'll be able to redeploy the app and share this saga with you all. Look for the code on gram:nue/flash.nu.

I am becoming unusually calm, perhaps due to lack of sleep, in the breaking of the case around Jeffrey Epstein, and the many people and organizations in association.

There are so many angles from which to approach this scheme, and I am sure I could spend a career digging through the mess.

Seems to be, I've been under immense pressure for many years to describe my predicament, the emotion that I've experienced since my memories began, the same emotion I recognize in innumerable people from any background, that helps me make immediate connection to all, aside from the most socially secured.

Those socially secured are usually paper dragons, cardboard clones of a dogma they had no choice in, conditioned through years by the prize of unearned recognition. They are usually the church choir children, who ask you if you'd like to go to church, who are so fragile that they depend for their security on being able to impose their fragility as someone elses' burden.

These people I recognize, and I'd been unusually scared by, largely because I'd been raised by a couple of them.

My dad probably had the worse end, because his dad is the churchiest deacon I know, who hardly bothers to speak aside from practicing his bible readings, or an occasional outburst towards a football game on screen. Perhaps the mercy he seeks may also apply to those he shall say goodbye to soon enough.

His name is Gary, and he scolded and became more or less enraged, using a belt on the boys and causing deep issues among the six children.

My mom's childhood seemed looser and more relaxed, and so I aligned more to that group during summer holidays. We'd have the splendid chance to hear of how those siblings raised a bunch of animals, my mom bringing home ducks and racoons, and when they adopted a couple retired horses, once bringing the equine inside the foyer of their home.

Her dad, Henry (Skip) passed more than six years ago already, and though her mom Martha had a stroke I had been pleased to see her pick up the knitting needles when I saw her this year, even if only to show me the basics to begin a (since abandoned) scarf.

That couple also raised six children, oddly enough. I guess that becomes possible, on so much land as western Michigan has to spare.

If you cross Lake Michigan to go see Chicago, as in the common first hop from or final hop to the Grand Rapids airport, you see the incredible change in housing density.

Of course there are some farms, though in many places those fields have become changed into long large yards, and the only relation the occupants keep to their once-fields is to pass a mower across it each week of the growing seasons.

If you do use a car, and manage to ignore the lingering odor of the campaign signs, normally from the prior seasons, you'll round the southern edge of Lake Michigan and poke for a few miles through Indiana, near a place called Gerry.

Gerry, Indiana - somehow became recognized enough to land a place in a popular musical number. The only thing you see now is the industrial remains, an open quarry that the highway passing through, implying sharp cliffs on either edge of the roadside. The smog is there somehow, and I'm unclear of the modern lurking processes behind this phenomenon.

From there, you're in the suburbs of Chicago, an endless mesh of municipal zones called "______ Park". Your commute is accompanied by the L, or perhaps the "el"? - the elevated rail leading into the city, double-decker train cars that are your final likely chance to relax for the day.

Such is the course around Lake Michigan's southern edge, marked so clearly by polar opposing conditions, on one side or the other of the tracks.

I began keeping a sharp eye open for the places I've been, and my geographic memory is as good as anyone's, you can be sure.

I had to begin recognizing my place, and other places, and the places in the middle, while most other people were learning the nuance of their close companion's facial expressions.

Eh, enough comparison to my peers - my skill lies in places. And you can learn a bunch of people, by passing through the places they recognize as a home.

Each home is a place made by people, in the end. Or perhaps this is simply a piece of the problem.

Each year, both during the end-of-year holiday season, and for a couple summer weeks, my older sib and younger sib and older mom and one-year junior dad had to make a migration, more or less, from our home near Philadelphia, PA to the places in Michigan that our kin resided.

In our much younger years, this had begun as a legal requirement; a condition of our residential Japanese visas, which perhaps applied only nine or ten months of the year.

Each summer then, we headed to a condominium in Michigan, close to my mom's childhood home, and such maps have been lodged into my mind, as surely as they are recorded on the GPS logs, which I could dig up from my memory cards and display, if a chance so happens.

After August, we'd be on a plane and then back in our Tokyo apartment, and I'm amazed that this logistical theater had been possible to manage, for three years on end.

My dad, in his role for corporate finance, and my mom, who focused on baking specialty Americanized cakes for birthdays, both began learning colloquial Japanese, and had to manage two large moves each year. They needed some help to manage the logic of dual-residency, plus their three early-school-age children. I remember, more or less as an ambiguous, reassuring sensation, our nana, a Philipino lady named Bing.

Being such a globehopper at such a young age should have occurred to me as unusual, and an exhilirating experience, although I had bigger problems to endure - I began to embrace the sensation that each place I passed through is impermanent, a brief experience.

Many years later, as I came upon my first sporadic experiences of homelessness in 2019, I began to recognize and label these immense childhood challenges as an abnormal sense of displacement.

This reassured me for years, although I missed the mark to be precise.

Seems to be, I've been under immense pressure for many years to describe my predicament, the emotion that I've experienced since my memories began, the same emotion I recognize in innumerable people from any background, that helps me make immediate connection to all, aside from the most socially secured.

My mom and my dad are each deeply conditioned by their childhoods in Michigan, surrounded by endless sibling bonds and the norms and schedules of their church circles. Religion is the refuge, in their experience, for any challenges beyond the daily norm.

Religion, then, had been their ironclad approach to deny me any means of expressing my gender.

To be sure, I had been up against numerous real problems as I learned to express my ideas; religion simply became the point of inflamation in our familiar relationship.

By means of explanation, consider that second grade had been my first year in an American public school. I had already been going in Japan, for three years by then, and each year I had been enrolled in a different school.

In essence, my earliest education had been that friends come and go - relationships are only durable enough for one year.

I am amazed that my pals from middle and high school kept putting up with me for so long, because I am sure I never managed to open up to any of them.

Because friends come and go, sooner than you'd like, and the only reliable ones around are going to be arguing religious dogma, or staging gross humiliations, whenever a chance comes for you to express your mind.

This model of upbringing, I am learning to recognize today at 33 years old, is simple enough to be called dereliction.

I am unsure when the first signs began appearing, because my parents recognized long before I could that I had been as gay as a bluebird who wanders into a food fight between Andy Warhol and Kieth Haring, during the AIDS crisis in San Francisco's Castro neighborhood.

They recognized this though, and so began the grueling schedule of humiliations on one hand, religious programming and masculine bonding exercises on the other. Our childhood rooms were assigned chromizonally; my first roommate and I were enrolled in Aikido classes, while my elder sib missed the chance.

When we moved to Pennsylvania the dynamic continued, her room at the end of the hall, sharing a wall beside my parent's bedroom, and the male-bodied at the far end of the upper floor, down a hall near the bathroom.

Precarious memories, for sure.

By middle school, the humiliation began peaking again, and I was largely too obsessed with my problems to recognize the pains expressed by my siblings.

I've since spoken to my younger sib about his challenges, picked on by a close friend.

I imagine my older sib has much to say that so far remains unspoken; she is already raising more small children and is probably glad that I no longer am around to bother too much.

Again, humiliation on the one hand and religion on the other.

The religious arc had been to enroll us in the church programs, the youth group, altar hands, lectors; younger sib dug into choir singing.

The humiliation began as an image from Japan resurfaced. There had been a day, during my early bathroom conditioning, when I had used the toilet and left the door open behind me; likely my dad had been the one to snap the image of my bare ass as I took a piss, and now in middle school I found this image on display in our home, regardless of whether we had company around or no.

I sank into despair, really. Here I am, long since learned that these familial people are the only ones who are going to be around for me. Friends come and go; and only your abusers remain.

And so I am lucky to now recognize my childhood as derelict.

There is much to say, if we are going to really examine the years from then to now. I am only one mind among many, who can speak and share my memories.

I'm sure you'll see more along these lines if you choose to pull up the page again, and so I'll pause here to express a concern that preoccupies me on this theme.

Seems to be, I've been under immense pressure for many years to describe my predicament, the emotion that I've experienced since my memories began, the same emotion I recognize in innumerable people from any background, that helps me make immediate connection to all, aside from the most socially secured.

I see derelict people all around; most clearly in the urban core, where no one can be bothered to help source or share a meal, and where the passers-by claim a pass, rather than any form of neighborhood responsibility. Also in our elders, including my grandma Martha who has no one to knit with, or for, any more. I do hope I see her again to keep building our scarf.

In searching for this phrase, a label to apply to my experiences, I also caused more pain than anyone should; and I derelicted more relationships than I can recall. I consider my search irresponsible because I carried through this inquiry in isolation, hoping to grasp the one label capable of holding all my moods.

In San Francisco, I did so much along this course that I derelicted a real, physical sailboat in the bay. The Army Corps of Engineers had been on hand to clean up and scrap the ship, only my mind keeps imagining the squalls of weather that the ship had been exposed to, abandoned on anchor and relying on chance and the decaying anchor lines to hold firm.

This mood, the experience of dereliction, is an education alone. My mind is plagued by loose ends, by recognizing that I played a serious, consequential role in many poor conclusions, simply because absence is a poor role to choose.

So as to keep my mind as clear as possible, here are my plans. again.

Pool

Pool is designed to be the hub of your local-web; keeping your primary relay online and secure by using MicroVMs and local networking to deploy and manage open-source web apps.

POOL:

Relay

Relay is a desktop or local-web app, designed to run sandboxed peer-to-peer communication using AtomVM, and using permissioned message channels to manage OS operations, through a local rust compile-and-plugin procedure.

RELAY:

Hi, I am here to tell you about Argentina's Shamballa Permaculture Project. We are representatives of Armenia's ARK Armenia, happy to be here. Down in Australia we've connected up our Aboriginal Wetland Burning, Shoalwater Culture, Gawula, Greening Australia, How Aboriginals Made Australia, Kachana Land Restoration, One Acre Small Permaculture Project, Permaculture Research Institute, Purple Pear Farm, Rehydrating the Landscape, Regenerate Australia, and the Yarra Yarra Biodiversity Corridor. We're a busy crowd!

We are from Belize's Coral Reef Restoration. I represent Bolivia's Food Security. I, Borneo's How to Restore a Rainforest. We are from Brazil's Centro de Experimentos Forestasis, also Restoration Through Agroforestry. We come to you from Burkina Faso's The Forest of Lilengo, and the group Reforesting with Ancient African Farming Practices. Cameroon here: the Bafut Ecovillage.

Canada's delegation represents Bkejwanong Traditional Knowledge, Jardins d'Ambroisie, the Great Bear Rainforest, Miracle Farms, Taking Root, and Water for the Future. China's delegation is happy to speak for A Man Plants a Forest, Eco-Civilization, Greening China's Desert, Horqin Desert Reforestation, Karamay Ecological District, Kbuqi Desert Greening the Silk Road, Loess Plateau Watershed Restoration, Transforming Deserts to Cropland, World's Largest Man-made Forest, and Zhejiang Green Rural Revival Program.

From the Congo we are Bonobo Conservation, Participatory Mapping, and Virunga National Park. From Costa Rica, we are the Orange Peel Experiment, Punta Mona, and Vida Verde Water Retention. I am here to proudly speak for Cuba's Sustainable Agriculture Revolution, on its eighty-fifth birthday. We are from Denmark's Vitsohus Permakultur. I have been sent to you by Ecuador's Cloudforest Agroforestry. I from Egypt's Creating a Forest in the Desert. From England we represent Agroforestry Research Trust, the Eden Project, Knepp Estate Rewilding, Rewilding Britain, and River Restoration.

From Eritrea we are Manazares Mango Regeneration, from Ethiopia, Ethiopia Rising, the Miracle of Merere, Regreening Ethiopia's Highlands, Restoring Ecosystems, and the Watershed Movement. For France we happily represent Pur Projet Agroforestry. From Guatemala we are Reserva de Biosfera Maya and the Asociac'on de Comunidades Forestales. We speak for Reforesting Haiti. From Holland we represent the Land Life Company and Tiny Forest.

Honduras sends you the Roots of Migration. The Hopi Nation is here with Hopi Raincatchers. Iceland sends you Afforesting Iceland, and Regenerating Forests. From India we come to tell you of Agroforestry in Arau, Aravali Institute of Management, Barren Land into Luscious Forest, Cooperative Sustainable Agriculture, Creating a Forest in a Cold Desert, Crowd Foresting, the Farmer Scientist, Fishing Cat Conservancy, Food Sovereignty, Foundation for Ecological Security, Hand-Planting a 300-Acre Forest, Mangrove Restoration in the Sundarbans, Miracle Water Village, Miyawaki Afforestation Program, Natural Farming, Navdanya Biodiversity Farm, Planting 50 Million Trees in One Day, Planting 66 Million Trees in 12 Hours, Protecting Rice Diversity, Rejuvenated Lakes in Bangalore, Sadhana Forest, Sai Sanctuary, Seeds of Life, Sikkim the First Organic State, Water Fields, Water Harvesting, and River Restoration.

Indonesia greets you with its Biorock Coral Reef Restoration, Mangrove Action Project, Mangrove Restoration, and Manta Reef Restoration Project. Israel present its Growing Forests in the Desert, and Kibbutz. We are from Japan and bring news of Creating Forests to Reduce Tsunamis. I come from Jordan to tell you of Greening the Desert. We Kenyans are proud to represent East African Hydrologic Corridor, Green Belt Movement, Kaikipia Permaculture Center, Northern Rangelands Trust, and Rainwater Harvesting. Madagascar celebrates its Great Forest Restoration by the example of Project Moringa, and Using Trees to Save Lives.

Mexico presents Greening the Chihuahuan Desert, Intensive Silvopasture, Hidden Rivers, Reforestation and Water Protection Group, and Via Organica. Morocco brings you its organization Making the Desert Bloom. We come from Nepal to describe the Beyul Project and the Anthropocene Wilderness Group. New Zealand here: Hinewai Reserve, Mangarara Ecco Farm, and the Regenerators. As with all the other countries gathered here, tip of the iceberg really.

I come from Niger to tell you of Farmer Managed Natural Regeneration, and Re-greening in Niger. From Norway we speak of Polar Permaculture Solutions. The Oglala Lakota Nation sense a representative from the Oglala Lakota Culture Economic Revitalization. We are from Panama's Mamoni Valley Preserve. Peru wants to tell you of its Biocorredor Martin Sagrado. We from the Philippines have news of Forest Regernation, National Greening Program, and Saving a Fishery and Coral Reef.

We from Portugal celebrate the Fazenda Tomati Permaculture, Sown Biodiverse Pastures, Tamera Water Retention Landscape, and Wildlings. I am from Qatar's Sahara Forest Projet. From Russia with love: Pleistocene Park, Wet Carbon Storage, and Siberian Wildlife Support. I am from Rwanda's Forests of Hope. We Scots are here for Britain's Oldest Forest, Dendreggan Forest Restoration, Isle Martin Regeneration, On the Deep Wealth of This Nation, and Peat Bog Restoration. I speak to you for Senegal's Great Green Wall Initiative, also Rolling Back the Desert. From South Africa we speak about EcoPlanet Bamboo, Joe's Garden, Making the Desert Bloom, and Restoring the Baviaanskloof.

I am from the South Korean project Reforestation with 350+ Million Trees. I am from the Syrian project The Art of Regeneration, please help us. I come from Tajikistan to tell you of Reforesting Tajikistan. From Tanzania we speak for Reforesting Kokota Island and Reforesting Gombe's Surround. Tasmania here, we've got a great Giant Kelp Restoration Project, also Restoring Pine Plantations. I am from Thailand to tell you about Indigenous Knowledge and Forestry, Planting Mangroves, and Sahainan Permaculture Farm. Uganda sent me to speak of Permagardens and Uganda's New Forests.

We come from the United States as representatives of Accelerating Appalachia, American Prairie Reserve, Broken Ground Permaculture, Food Forest Farm, Holistically Managed Bison, Homegrown Revolution, Institute of Permaculture, Kiss the Ground, Klamath River Basin Restoration, Lake Erie Bill of Rights, the Land Institute, the Leopold Institute, Los Angeles Green Regeneration, Mirroring Nature's Management, Permaculture for the People, Planetary Healing, Planting Justice Farms, Regenerative Ranching, Restoring the Colorado River, Restoring the Redwoods, Restoring the Snake River, Rodale Institute, Saving the West, the Sierra Club, Singing Frogs Farm, Soil Health Institute, Stewards of the Wild Sea, Tabula Rasa Farms, Tending the Wild, Weaving Earth, Wild Idea Buffalo Company, and Wild Oyster Project.

I am from Zambia to tell you of the Betterworld Mine Regeneration. I am from Zimbabwe to speak for the Africa Centre for Holistic Management, and the Chikukwa Ecological Land Use Community Trust.

We are all here together to share what we are doing, to see each other, and to tell you our stories. We are already out there working hard, everywherere around this Earth. Healing the Earth is our sacred work, our duty to the seven generations. There are many more projects like ours already in existence, look us up on your YourLock account and see, maybe support us, maybe join us. You will find us out there already, now, and then you must also realize we are only about one percent of all the projects out there doing good things. And more still are waiting to be born. Come in, talk to us. Listen to our stories. See where you can help. Build your own project. You will love it as we do. There is no other world.

For me, August 2025 is going to remain the most spectacularly unplanned and chaotic mess of garbled memories, where each day carried so much nuance, and so many challenges, that there has been scarce occasion to pause and breathe, to reshape the experiences into more than the layered percussions of sun, moon, sea, sail, spoke, and signal.

I hope there is a chance to re-use that opening paragraph, in a closer examination of the days of August, only I need to begin by describing changes happening across this domain.

If you happen to be reading this, or perhaps if your RSS reader is doing a refresh, before 6pm on Thurs 09-04, you may only see a partial essay.

Background: Realizing a long-held dream.

I had good reason, cause, and chance to move my app deployment, from the basement where I lease a static IP address, to my local laptop, which I've had to leave up and running all night, in a hacker-space called the Baltimore Node.

I'm sure others have likely managed before me, a production online app running from a laptop. In my case I am especially pleased to do so, as a reinforcement of the aims described in the business' incorporación proposal.

When I composed the proposal in 2024 I was inexperienced in essays, and I need to apologize to the DC employees who had to read through that rubbish; moreso because as I began this company I was also in a phase of psychedelic experimentación.

If you dig through that essay, in a sense a legally binding one, you'll see the key theme is an idea I call "sublimación".

I realize now that my founding essay was simply a poor re-hashing of an idea explained much more clearly and simply in the Local-First Essay by Ink & Switch. They open by saying:

Cloud apps like Google Docs and Trello are popular because they enable real-time collaboration with colleagues, and they make it easy for us to access our work from all of our devices. However, by centralizing data storage on servers, cloud apps also take away ownership and agency from users. If a service shuts down, the software stops functioning, and data created with that software is lost.

It has been said before in the "local-first space" that numerous people are reaching the same conclusion from different initial conditions. The realización that our building processes are flawed, doomed to someday fail, is a process that can occur in a dispersed manner, like the many [origins of infintessimal calculus], or the rich explosion of humanist philosophies during the Axial Age

However the conclusion is reached, here we are.

Each of hundreds of programmers and small businesses are choosing a small niche in the local-first space. A full index is a good place to begin for end-users who are sick of usual app-store norms, and LoFi.so has many resources to choose from, including the Local-First Discord. Need to read more? See Local-First News.

The area I chose as a primary concern is unusual for the space, which is likely why I had been such a late-comer, missing the forest for the trees.

I chose to focus on web-app deployments.

2025 Aim: Reliable Deploys

Of course, 'web-app' can be seen as an antithesis to 'local-first'. If you agree, maybe I can change your mind.

Yesterday I came across an app I'd like to build into the mix, called Shiori. The purpose is to aggregate and label bookmarks, and enable an offline-reader mode for easy mobile access. There is no cloud-based company managing the program, and the features drop it categorically into the local-first space.

Shiori remains a web-app, and is capable enough for many users to access, although the primary audience is for a single-user per deployment. To run Shiori, users are encouraged to launch a web domain themselves.

Many apps are being produced in this manner because of the rising popularity of home-labbing, perhaps known to some as self-hosting. Besides, the web has made up some really amazing norms for apps that are dynamic and accessible, and is much more pleasing to build for than most "native" OS apps.

To launch your app's domain, the normal approach is to lease a machine from a cloud company. In this case, for such a simple app, the easiest option may be PikaPods. More experienced coders are familiar - and correspondingly sick of - flexible options like Linode and DigitalOcean, which probably are happy to lend our login credentials to the nearest NSA field office at the mere whisper of enforcement.

So, until now every domain manager had two choices:

• add to Amazon AWS or Akamai's global reach, by signing on to use their machines (usually repackaged by a cloud middle-manager)

• order a business internet plan, and consent to days-on-end of random phone calls with your ISP, to order a static IP address rigged up.

I'm partial to the second option, because reaching local-first dominance has to both amplify the share of local apps and programs, and crucially, reduce our dependence on cloud data centers.

I'd like to see a report each billing cycle, describing how much water my apps drank while they were being cooled by Google's electron-warehouse plumbing.

The deplorable shape of our industry is plain to see when passing through Ashburn, VA - a close suburb for me to reach, where there is no business, no one in sight, and only a bland shopping mall for amusement.

These are human prices of our industry that need to be recognized and addressed.

March 2025: Baseline Lab

Although my company's purpose is to bring the web back to the home, a further complicación had been... my lack of a home.

I am nomadic, carrying my home around in a pickup truck or a sailboat each day, and so I'd like to accomplish as many of my aims as possible while being as locación-independent as possible.

For the static IP address, I called up my pals in Upper Marlboro, MD; there is a home there full of the most generous people I know. I arranged for a business internet line to their home, and placed a couple machines in their basement.

I'd been commuting from place to place, and would occasionally find a chance to go by and check on the machines, manage upgrades, plug and unplug cords. The biggest flub had been encrypting the boot drive; each reboot required hands on a physical keybard. Nonetheless, the process remained in place through much of August. Six months on a static IP address!

Then... let's discuss how August went.

(beginning) August 2025: Sailing Fiasco

The "friend's basement" playbook is, eh, more or less manageable when you live in close proximity, are capable of a deep bond of co-reliance, and are equal shareholders in the success of the program.

I'm unsure how I scored on any one of those marks, though the deployment held up until a small crisis landed on Aug 1, requiring me to immediately set sail.

A sailboat is an ideal place to run cyber exercises. Because there is no escape from the physical isolación, the only connección you are likely to find to other humans has to be relayed to you through radio signals.

I dove deep into the Self-Hosted Podcast and Linux Unplugged, and called into many cancer research calls, where the group was far more eager (or enabled) for me to put the "comp" into "computational biology" than they were to put it into "compensation".

Of course, I had experiments to run. I launched Mumble. I launched Traccar. I launched n8n, and shoe-horned comment fields into the essay pages.

And I broke the lab. Again. And again.

To the dear residents of Larry Cat House,

I am so so sorry, sincerely and immensely so, for the endless calls on Signal where I explained complex passcodes and cable-plugging procedures, and the "quick sanity checks" where none was found.

I had to balance downtime for a core-business client app, my need for experimentación as a coping mechanism, for lonely breezeless days, and the superb annoyance I caused my pals back on land each day, immediately after promising it (probably?) wouldn't happen again.

I hung on like this until I got back to land, and spent one day fixing up the lab to get the blog running again before heading to HOPE. I promised myself I would do no experiments while I was in NYC, and besides I had no more energy to do so.

I was getting enough of a cyber-social buzz from the conference, and NYC is the deepest end of the social spectrum to drown in, after two weeks on a rolling bouncing bay.

After NYC, I headed back to the lab. I had ideas to manage, more grand plans. I had decided to separate the apps and the experiments, leave the production app running as I brought the bulk of the lab to Baltimore Node, where I could exhaust days on end running necessary experiments and building at high speed.

With all but the core production machine "baseboard" loaded into my truck, I locked the door to my friend's house behind me and began to pull out of their neighborhood.

Then I remembered. I should check if the app is online!

Not only no app, but no signal. No SSH.

I spun around, rang the doorbell, met the new roommate, and pulled the final cord out of Baseline Lab.

(end) August 2025: (re)Building Blocks

However much sleep I had lost in the preceding days, I was soon to lose more. My usually inattentive client quickly messaged me, saying "the app is down. Can we host it somewhere else?" and of course I said "yes, please".

I recommended fly.io because heck, I'm finally beginning to recognize my mission as a smidge on the idealistic side. If at all possible I can keep my ideals from holding up my pals' business, I suppose I should.

I burned a couple days building a proper Elixir/Phoenix Dockerfile, double-checking port and IP bindings between my config/*.exs files, and I finally had a reliable deployment that no longer breaks the memory limits.

On my breaks, I honed my process for launching NixOS on a Raspberry Pi, and soon headed back to Larry Cat House to plug one in; then a second.

The first pi I launched is called pebble, and for around a week this had been running the blog. On a couple occasions, I checked in, and thought I saw that the pi had crashed; then, a few hours or the next day, the app would be online again.

Clearly, the app is seeing more than zero traffic, and the pi is unable to keep up. No problem; the second pi I plugged in enabled me to experiment with Nebula. Nebula, in essence, enables me to spread the lab out to any number of geographically dispersed areas.

I placed some Nebula certificates on the two lab Pi's, assigned certs for my laptop (chesapeake), and with only a few days of config & network-address munging behind me, I can finally keep a reliable connection up between my chesapeake, in Baltimore, and pebble, in Upper Marlboro.

September 2025: Dispersed

As much as I like the reliable connection between here and there, the glory lies in the opposite direction: I can keep up a reliable connection from there to here.

Remember, there, where pebble is running, is the business line static IP address. pebble is only a low-grade Raspberry Pi 4B with 2GB RAM, purchased before I knew what to look for in a single-board computer. pebble kept choking and lagging when asked to compile markdown for a blogging engine.

When pebble can reach me here, on chesapeake, a full-blown x86 coding machine, the game fully changes. I kept the blog running at full capacity, by disabling my idle timer through the night, leaving the laptop plugged in to charge, on a residential wifi connection, reaching far higher speeds than the pi could manage.

I kept the blog running even as I ran Blender, and downloaded a bunch of YouTube videos explaining how to use Blender. I kept the blog running even as I compiled Blender from scratch, because that's how things go on NixOS, and there was no single hiccup in the response or lag from the app.

Finally, I logged on this morning and began playing around with the essay, and realized that as I saved my progress, the rendered page displayed the changes - on the public ://operand.online domain.

In essence, I signed up my pals for a static IP address, and made sure my domain's DNS records all point to that address. Then, I rigged up Nebula and Caddy to reference an address on a Nebula virtual-LAN; the magical, ephemeral, dispersed layer that replaces all networking headaches with certificate-management headaches.

As long as Nebula and Caddy agree on an IP address for the app machine, and Caddy and the app-machine agree on a port number for the app, and Caddy and the app agree on a domain name, then the app can be run on any machine, any place, regardless of network setup.

Of course, this experimentation process has required me to make serious changes to the business plan, so that much of what was described under BASE is now marked as 'broken' in red, and moved to NODE, where I can be more hands-on with my experiments, for much less risk.

A Moment, to Breathe

Some may say I am in a precarious posición, with my business. Why be nomadic, why go sailing, why be so un-employ-ed -able? There are few role models to choose from, when breaking so many norms, so I am lucky to rely on essays that stretch the seams on this world.

In her essays Ismatu examines the social scenarios of her tribe, and the consequences of being raised a child of two nacións.

I feel an immense bond with this composer, who I hope I shall be lucky enough to speak to, and collaborate alongside someday, by my own happenstance of being born in London, raised in Tokio, by midwestern parents.

Global children like us are fully incapable of considering the nonsense of a flat-earth hypotheses, because we have seen the curvature of the earth from the window seats of numerous long cross-oceanic flights.

Global children like us are less prone to ensnarement by a corporate mission statement,i spun around, rang the doorbell, met the new roommate, and pulled the final cord out of baseline lab. when we recognize that the mission ends where the state's boundary lies, less prone to being hooked by a viral ad campaign when we can examine a global virus campaigning through places once called home.

I'm sure that in the middle of the largest rapidly globalizing crisis our species has yet encountered, all one can hope to do is find an area where their skills can shine, press them into full gear, and share the consequences publicly as loud and openly as possible.

In my case, this consequence seems to be the simultaneous dissolución of the core mechanic underlying the business models of Amazon AWS, Google Cloud, and Microsoft Azure; the mechanism laid in place by ISP providers such as Comcast, AT&T, and Verizon, many years ago when the first phone lines began being repurposed for internet purposes.

The static IP has been the bane of my career, and in the end this windmill has been blown away by the deployment of a single Raspberry Pi, running a background Nebula process.

Going ahead: a Reproducible Base

Again, nearly nobody I know has a static IP address, and more and more people I know have apps they'd like to launch, and spare old machines lying around home with no purpose, and gradually depreciating innards. This is the problem of sublimación; the economic resource of silicon doomed to disuse, by lack of access to the demanded use cases.

By chance, Baseline Lab is my second failed static-IP experiment; the first one being in my parents' place of business in Michigan. Seeing as I have two static IPs to make use of, a business model comes to mind.

Soon, you'll be able to log in to ://operand.online, and for a choose-your-donación price, or pay-by-bandwidth for larger apps, you can send along your domain name to us, and I'll issue you a Nebula certificate. You can choose a static IP address from our list of nodes, to use as a relay for your web app. Any one should do, so choose based on geography.

You can assign your DNS records to our static IP, and our Caddy reverse proxy can begin handling your app's call-and-response through our Nebula mesh.

For memberships needing more nodes on a single mesh, perhaps you'd be open to on-demand cert allocación & revocación from a secure app, on a dedicated nebula mesh.

Of course, no one can build on such a core open-source library such as Nebula, unless you also run open-source. No problems here, this has been the case for Operand since day one.

I can see many docs pages ahead, for gradually-sharpened essay skills to go to use.

I'm beginning to imagine the nuances of a peer-to-peer product, similar to LiveBook and Observable, based on Tauri, and embracing the ideals of Local First programming.

Why bother?

To approach Tauri, the desktop-app layer, I am upskilling in Rust - and gearing up a dependable webassembly compiler pipeline. Tauri 2.0 adds mobile apps to the mix, including iOS and Android.

My primary lang, Elixir, can run code dispersed on thousands of machines, and is the same base layer chosen by WhatsApp, Discord, and Telecom of old. Elixir and similar langs are making inroads to webassembly through AtomVM.

A bunch of pixels (electrons?) have been spilled in discussion of client-side libraries, rendering pipelines, and the issue of a dense bundler landscape.

These are the pieces that I feel I needed to learn, simply to build at the level that an end-user expects.

Since my first company in 2017, I had the idea that a single human should be able to harness the energy of machines to build useful apps, and fly in the face of the market and industry if needed.

There are too many apps that I'd like to build, to choose only one; so I focus on the process of app-making.

As a consequence... I'm ready to build a seamless channel from GPU to GUI, so people can build and share from any machine, either in a board room or on a beach, in café or construction, factory floor or farm field.

With all the chaos of change in the air these prior few years, I'm sure the remaining online boom of the 2020s has to focus on education, to rebuild a common language around our programs, and condense new labor pools from the displaced employees of the recession.

Only, am I going to be the one to lead the lesson?

No; I only know code and how to apply code to build programs. I'd like to learn from others, people who manage more serious problems than code. The program is designed around helping people share and discuss their learnings, in any discipline.

I spent years helping people, young and old, learn code - and there needs to be a clear place to land once a child outgrows Scratch.

I spent years among lawyers learning the nuances of the business - and they need an app to change a spare GPU into an on-premise pipeline.

It is impossible for our machine learning apps to find - or build - audiences that resemble the era of blogs, consumer SAAS, or B2B products. In a sense, 'audience' is no longer meaningful.

We need to keep in mind that a "Fortune 500 Product" is now being challenged by a $500 ebay purchase.

We need to realize that anyone can build, if they have the space.

We need to make space to build.

A bunch of our daily experience on our processing machines is managed by online browsers; these commonly run packages of code that they demand on-the-go from relays positioned across the globe.

This is probably the single most compelling mechanism of modern human communication, and the idea is so simple and reliable that we've come up with many incredibly nuanced modes of description for the phenomenon.

To begin, the packages of code that are handled by your browser app, are composed of a few languages operating in harmony;

• .html: hyper-text markup language
• .css: cascading style sheets
• .js: java-script

These have been around for years, to the degree that if someone who has never opened a code editor happens across a broken web page, they are likely to be able to say which of these three languages the error has occurred in.

Although the boundaries among these languages are becoming uncommonly blurred, mainly because of the promiscuous dalliances of .js in the business of the others, there seems to be a baseline recognition of the purpose each one promises to uphold.

To speak more of these blurred bounds; the three languages are normally passed from a relay to a consumer's machine in seemingly a single moment, and to keep this exchange as quick as possible, millions of engineering hours are poured into a problem space called "bundling".

A quick index of the different bundlers through the years; because they more or less accomplish the same aim, and are designed to be unseen and unheard, they become remarkably interchangeable until one of them fails to keep up with the pace of change.

• Grunt
• Gulp
• Rollup
• Parcel
• Esbuild
• Vite
• Deno bundle

To dramatically complicate the scene, this cambrian explosion is echoed on the opposing side of a coder's experience: how to manage the dependencies of a code base, that one's app needs to rely upon, and that are bundled up alongside the bespoke code in each app.

This problem is called "package management", and for the web space the canonical package index is npmjs.com. The process of sourcing and arranging your dependency packages can be managed by numerous programs also, such as:

• npm - node package manager
• bun
• deno
• yarn

Yikes, oh no.

Finally, there is one more layer of choice that a coder needs to make:

The bundling process, from beginning to end, is all managed using JavaScript, although the more dedicated engineers among us have learned to build the core machinery in a quicker and more reliable language, usually Rust

Now, all of this code we chose to depend on needs to run somehow, and JavaScript is considered to be rather loose around the edges. Rather than a single simple engine to run this programming language, the language is being pulled in many different directions, because in essence each browser has a company of people behind the scenes, building new ideas into their own javascript-running engines, to get the lead compared to their competition in market niches like mobile phones or media streaming.

So, again in a gradually changing landscape, these execución engines are:

• Node.js®
  • based on v8
• bun
• deno
• wasmtime - for special cases.

Having said all this, I can proceed to make a choice among the options that I may be happy to build upon for years to come, and that I may be equally happy to recommend to my peers.

Node.js® (node) had been the original engine in the bundling space, and prior to its release the JavaScript language had only really been used in web browsers. This becomes clear by examining v8, which had been running in the Chromium code bases long before being repackaged into node.

Although basically enabled the bundling scene in the olden days, node seems to be lagging behind especially in the package manager space.

The included node package manager, npm, began to see doppelgangers appear years ago, such as yarn, which promised to be more secure and speedier, with additional debugging features for thorny issues. This promise played out as planned, and yarn is as ubiquitous as any choice these days.

I used yarn for long enough without looking deeply at the code, and I essentially assumed that the piece would also be replaced someday, especially as rust libraries became more popular. Sure enough, bun took a huge leap ahead, and replaced both the package manager and the engine in one go.

For a while I had no need to make a change, until I began a more serious examinación of local-first apps. Suddenly, the bundler problem was the problem, numero uno.

I eagerly applied bun to my peculiar mix of build codes, and although the package manager was running splendidly, I was able to make no progress on the bundling problem - for a scary span of time. Months. Seasons. I could build, but I kept feeling things break in ambiguous directions, and it was only this morning that I finally pinned down the location of the problem, in the middle of this mess.

You see, coders have no patience; we know that our full career is a race, both against our younger leaner competition who are spoiled with more graphics cards, and against the carpal tunnel syndrome we incur, and beckon on with each keypress.

The bundlers we use to build and ship our online apps decided to help here, and they came up with an idea called hot module reloading. In essence, the bundler realizes that to make an app, a coder needs to see what they are making - and the bundler is standing directly in the path from code to rendered page.

It is only good manners, then, to help open the doors in the corridor; on each file change that a coder makes in their editor, the bundler is commissioned to sense the change and reload the browser.

In essence, this reduces the price of making each change by nearly 6 key-presses:

• [cmd-tab] to change to the browser
• [cmd-r] to reload the page
• [cmd-tab] to regress to the editor

When recording a file change requires two key-presses, a coder can measure this as 75% savings, on a procedure that needs to happen hundreds of times a day. Beyond silly numerical measurements, this is the kind of change that makes people happier, in their employment, and ensures that they can keep their precious focus on the problem they are hired to do.

If you'd like to discuss burnout and demoralización among open-source coders, drop a reply. There's an endless discussion that needs to be unleashed.

So how did I reach my burnout phase for bundling?

I realize this is a core piece of the program I need to build; to run locally, an app needs to be bundled for local consumption, and there is no way of escaping the reliance on a bundler these days. Even good desktop apps are based on this process.

But I had no confidence in the bundlers I chose - and the problem was hidden from me.

Everyone raved about the bundler Vite, saying things were good to go out of the box, and there was no end to what you could do.

In practice, I could not even get the page to reload consistently.

• I could bundle the code, and see the rendered page.
• I could make a change in the code, and the page would reload.
• Any additional changes to the code were ignored.
  • Even a manual browser reload ignored the changes
  • I had to re-start the bundler command to pick up any changes.

I sensibly assumed the problem was the bundler, and looked through the dependency - chokidar.

Being based on NixOS does mean that occasionally things like this break, but that was odd to me - I had gone through this before, which is why I now include the inotify-tools package as a dependency in each of my flake.nix files.

Besides, the first page-reload does imply that chokidar sees the change. Infuriating.

A few months ago I traced out the course of this issue, and realized I was trying about eight options in parallel, without reliably tracking my methods.

This round, I began to add rigor using git branches:

* 3f65b69 [bun] rearrange dependencies.  (HEAD -> marko-manual)
* 95f0047 [marko] manual setup using v6 docs.
| * 9610601 [esbuild] begin adding bun commands.  (esbuild)
| * 5b88e2b [esbuild] manage `esbuild` using nix.
|/
| * 9be1bae [vite] dead-end using `vite_phoenix` and `lit`.  (vite)
| * 8645b56 [vite] add `vite_phoenix` hex pkg.
|/
* 5d4c6d9 [bun] add `bun`, manage libs using nix.  (base/main, marko-a, marko, main, lit)
| * cfd6339 [marko] reach a dead-end based on numerous guides.  (base/inert-marko, inert-marko)
| * b130e92 [inertia] clean up rough edges.
| * 7e5f9c6 [tailwind] use nix-managed `tailwindcss_4`.
| * 8ffe251 [bun] use nix-managed `bun` binary.
| * c00ff15 [inertia] copy in nordbeam/exinertia-templates
| * cec3f19 [inertia] igniter.install exinertia, #3
| * 1e6633d [inertia] igniter.install exinertia, #2
| * 18662cd [inertia] igniter.install exinertia, #1
|/
* 14747ff [nix] add `flake.nix` & `flake.lock`
* 07d71f3 [base]> nsh elixir mix phx.new operable

After a full day of this I was angry and sad and depressed again. This is a damn easy, "step #1" kind of problem for many people. On top of my money problems, the only amusement I could find as I cried to sleep in the rolling boat was to imagine the experience of sinking, tied to an anchor.

The silicon machines I am beholden to are made from crystallized sand, and I am fond of saying that on many days, composing in this landscape feels like building a house on quicksand.

Luckily, as Shakespeare describes in "The Tempest",

We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

At risk of misinterpretation, my little (sub-microscopic) problems were indeed rounded out by refreshing my memory in dreams.

When I rose this morning I plunged once more into the quick-sand-scape, and picked through each thread I had arranged out the day before. Then I recalled a small conclusion I had reached months ago, and failed to record in my exhaustion at the time.

Changing back to yarn and node repairs HMR using vite on nixos.

If only I had found this phrase somewhere online, or in the responses of some desparate GPT bot chat, I'd be holding on a small measure of hope today.

I know that nobody reads these blogs for the emotional dialogue included, because I also search, find the clue I need, and close the page.

I record my mood mainly for a reminder of the pains when no such clue exists online, and days can be spent spinning in circles on anchor, hoping for some manner of release from the silent building anger.

Maybe I'll have more fun riding a denosaur.

On my long sailing expeditions, which can take a week or more to measure the same distance that a car can run in an hour, I rely on my propane grill for cheer, and my chosen podcast dialogues for company.

Yesterday, caught up in a flurry of programming errors and managing a video call to relaunch some sleepy machines, I pressed pause in the middle of Seph Gentle's Local-First Podcast interview.

I had the pleasure this morning, as I plugged the 5g modem back in, sipped my coffee, and logged on to manage my corporate financial crisis, to hear Seph describe some really compelling ideas that ring loud and clear in my ears.

Since coming to DC I have had a serious challenge in finding peers who obsess on their programming language opinions in the same manner that I do; the impulse to sign on to a corporate contract is usually how people end up in this area, and any nascent start-ups here have only the machine-learning boom to credit.

This example Seph gives, at around 1:14, seems like a clear summary of the problems I hope to challenge, bridging the domains of legal policy and online policy, where communicación norms are being chosen in a clearly un-democratic manner:

The cloud always feels like... feudal city states, you know? So back before we had democracy, and before we had countries, you have these towns, and the town? It's not a democracy; there's one ruler, the noble, the local noble. And if you upset the noble, there's no laws necessarily; that's a recent invention.

The noble would say, no, not you. And you'd either be exiled if you're lucky or like, you know, hung from the town square, if you did something the noble didn't like.

And no one owns property. Only the noble owns the whole town. That's the rule, right? And so if you have a house, you have a house because the noble has graciously allowed you to live there. And that's the rule, you know?

And if the noble wants to do, whatever they want to do, There's no higher law than the noble.

And that feels like the software ecosystem that we exist in today, where, you know, there's the Google city. And as much as I have endless respect for so many individuals that I know who I've worked with at Google. I think they're amazing people.

But - the experience is Google is a feudal city state. Where you walk into the gates and if the noble, if the local Lord doesn't like you, then you can get banished at any moment out of Google.

There's no recourse. There's no laws. There's no rules. It's not a democracy. you don't have any privacy. Everything you do is monitored 24/7 by the Google cameras that exist everywhere.

You know, in their nice little plastic, you know, beautiful designed, whatever.

And if you don't like it, you can go down the street to the Apple town where everything is run by Apple and Apple has slightly different values from Google. And I happen to like Apple's philosophy on privacy more than Google's, but it's the same kind of world.

And I personally believe in democracy, and I like that my streets aren't owned by a company, call me crazy, but yeah.

And I don't know how it interacts with AI, but I feel like we've got, I don't know. It's like, we've got this opportunity to being more creative, to make more stuff, to not need billions of dollars of funding, and it's up to us what we want to do with that.

There are some ideas that compel because they inspire, and there are some ideas that compel because they scare.

So much of the corporate landscape online is focused on inspiring people - as an example, I clicked through the landing page of n8n a bunch in the last couple days, and their product branding seems to promise the capabilities of either Thor, The Flash, or Shazam.

So, no one needs a reminder of why techies are seen as children.

2025 is here, and all of us agree that we woke up to a hellscape. Here I am, falling asleep on the Chesapeake Bay, and looking out on a horizon that is as smog-filled as the Beijing weekdays I remember from 2013.

All of us have made connections to friends from across the globe, simply soon enough to see their neighborhoods pummeled by bombs into rubble on our media feeds.

The rate of censorships from our own government this year has us asking if 1984 really could be a simple 40-year anachronism, rather than a spooky and silly dystopia.

So I'm happy to be holding onto a real idea here, that our communicacións are more or less broken, because of decisions made decades ago that should be more challenged by the public than they are.

Of course, I need to think of how I can lend my skills to this scenario.

A couple minutes before the feudalism discussion, Seph raises the issue of Dharma:

there's this idea of Dharma that's talked about, in some Eastern philosophy, which is like, what is the duty that's your sacred duty? That's yours alone to reach.

And that duty, by the way, might just be to like, be a really great parent. It doesn't have to be anything grand or grandiose in any way, but asking that question of what is it yours to do in the world? That's yours uniquely that no one else will do if you don't do it.

I think that's really the question that we want to be asking ourselves as creative workers.

Of course I am unable to nicely ask Google or Amazon to please explain the business purposes behind their legal agreements. Please give me a chance to read through them before deciding if I should sign up for another email provider. The busy-ness of our lives, the quick pace we all embrace and rely on, keeps us from yelling about the abuse, keeps us coming back to the same horrid relationship that gives us the sense of reward we crave.

In the end, domestic abuse is also how dogs were domesticated. I'm far too much of a lone wolf to obey capricious calls from an alien lord, in exchange for gaudy toys, and saliva-inducing snacks.

So I bounce and roll around on the sailboat (the spin from shade to sun now indicating that the tide is changing, and I should be going), and I consider how to arm the peasant rebellion, in 2025, using code and phone and new languages of expression.

I am the one on a soap-box, largely of my own making, yelling in the town square of the impending bloodbath.

The wages of our labor, spelled out in songs and images on screens across the globe, are of course becoming repurposed behind the horizon by managers in a board room, who run the psychology experiments using the metrics of click and spend, cheerfully ignorant of our basic unmet needs, as we ride to anyplace we can call home, in a subway car beside someone tuned into a streamers popping head-shots and yelling obscenity into the abyss.

The escapism we are being sold is supposed to inspire? No; speaking of scary.

Winston!

We only met during the one meal prep class for dumplings, but your class was the reason for me to finally see NYC Resistor, and test out the pickup-truck urban camper in the middle of Queens (4 days, spending $0).

my jet-lagged pal missed the discussion about freezing the dumplings, and had to throw out a bunch of them while I was going hungry on rice and peanuts a couple miles away.

All of us have so many ambitions that we are conditioned to keep from expressing, and I am so glad to experience the camaraderie of reading your essays, and plans, and learning about people like Andrea Gibson; I hope you find space to share more of your ideas as you go, because you are as inspiring as you are inspired. I am proud to see that although NYC has perhaps shaped you, it has done nothing to reduce you, as it does to so many people.

I am composing this to you from a small sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay, as the back of my mind ponders where to place the solar panel today, and how to rig up my broken tiller long enough for a calm night-sail in a couple days. My main schedule for now is "when shops open up on Monday", and I can dig around the parts piles for a replacement. When you leave the land behind, there is an inescapable queasiness as your body learns to roll on the incoming waves - and from the calm mornings to the raging evenings, you begin to absorb the emotions of the air and sea around you.

If you'd like to include me in your postcard group, I'd be happy for more decorations on board. I tend to over-do the post-it notes at expense of mementos.

Calliope Youngblood ********************, Basement Washington, DC 20005

I hope you have a chance to glance at my essays also, when you need a signal from the home you're departing. I am gradually expanding the publishing program, and may soon begin raising sponsorship income and bringing more composer/producers on board. For now I need to recommend the RSS link in the header.

://operand.online

I'm glad to keep my eyes pacing across your messages, and especially hope if you choose to move to online publishing, you share a link where I can read more from you. There's no assurances of where any of us are bound from here, so keep your plans in mind and be ready to bounce and roll as you go.

Easy goes! Calliope

Freedom of speech, the first amendment, is a special one.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Oddly enough, the inability of our legislature to make laws concerning speech has made it superbly easy for the executive to use his openly-invisible hand.

If you are already sick of the political discussions this year, no one can blame you - so I'll do as much as I can to keep from being polite here.

Please realize, you dumbass, that the first thing our nation's congress did, as a legal organization on planet earth - was decide to censor itself.

If you can realize that, you'll perhaps see a piece of what makes America a special place, as much as that reputation has been abused by the imbecile hicks lurking behind each and every hillside.

You had your warning before, I'm sick of being polite. All of us are. Political correctness simply upholds the corrections officers, the private business of private companies who make a buck on privatizing the national sin, the profile pickers who keep a color-coded red line between the admissions brochures and the mugshot glasses.

At least we can say anything we like about those goddamn politicians, the electeds who make a career on popularity, who polished their smiles and grins and handshakes, for the simple and compelling and crucial illusion that they can't hear you.

Of course they can; of course they know they're despised, they grew up despising people like themselves, their role models who incessantly failed, their predecessors who would not fold into the soil quickly enough.

These people chose a goddamn career based on arguing with their neighbors. And you think they can't hear you, see you smirking as you turn your backs on their long commute to raise your glasses at the bar to the football game on screen, and as they pass the many sober miles rolling under rubber tread, they're doing the silent math on your bill, your bar tab, your friends and your career, your bar's payroll and suppliers, the line at the front door and the lines of coke in the alley. The logic of the parking lot needed to pack a stadium at this time of night, the communications required to keep an image on the screen, the energy needed to course through the cables to keep the lights on, and to keep the light-skinned side on the right-side write-up.

And you think they can't hear your derision, when they put up with it throughout high school after being silent for too long through their childhood.

You say they're a jerk because they don't raise a glass beside you, they're a piece of work because they are on call all day, an asshole because they haven't shared a bed with anyone you've shared with, corrupted because they bend a rule for a donor instead of a knee to an employer.

Instead of friendship, they choose recognition, and that goes deeper than you realize.

They recognize the illusions behind your friendships, how all your peers you met in your church, how all your sundays call you back to the same neighborhood, how all your dreams succumbed to the pressures of the children, whose dependence on you hardly compares to your codependence on them.

You used to squeeze your steady's hand, and now you both hold one hand of your child, and then someday you'll make the child choose, because who can be so close to someone for so long.

Who can be steady at all any more, when all of us are so goddamn sick?

Say, pass that orbit around again - I'm not as dizzy as I need to be.

LEGEND:

In case you go through the backlog on this domain you'll likely see some real ad-hoc pages, ones that seem to be leading no place, more poetry and emoción and inercia, than prose and progress and momentum.

I guess the problem had been, ideas came and were gone too easily, too soon.

Before now I had no place to map out my plans;

I produce this plan using the superb D2 language, and re-compile on each published change to gram:page.

Here is the diagram source, referencing each sub-diagram.

Current plan sub-diagrams

OPERABLE: BASE: NODE: BUILD: MICRO: GRAMME: LEGAL:

Some more, sidelined sub-plans:

OP: LEDGER: BIO: MEDIA: PSQL: HEX:

So, you're managing WordPress?
That's a popular thing to be doing!
How long have you had this running?

Oh, how rude of me to ask; probably much longer than you'd like to admit.

Here is how you can quickly back up a WordPress domain - focusing on the content of the pages, rather than the themes & style.

Throughout this guide we'll be making use of the WordPress REST API. Our code samples are prepared using Nushell.

Discover the API.

WordPress relies on a discovery mechanism to communicate each site's public API to one another.

In this example, we use wordpress.org - the same code applies, in theory, to any wordpress domain.

def "wp base" [domain: string] {
  http get --full $domain |
  get headers.response |
  where name == link |
  get value.0 |
  parse '<{link}>; rel="https://api.w.org/"' |
  get link.0
}

let base = wp base https://wordpress.org | tee { print }

Solid! We have a base URL.

Using the reference, we see that /wp/v2/posts is the path we need to use.

Depending on how your WordPress has been managed, other nice places to look are:

• /wp/v2/pages
• /wp/v2/tags
• /wp/v2/categories
• /wp/v2/comments
• /wp/v2/media
• /wp/v2/users

Again, see the reference for a more thorough appraisal.

To help us progress here, let's make a couple quick helper functions:

def "wp dump" [base: string, path: string, --form (-f): string = yml] {
  let node = [. ($base | url parse | get host) $"($path).($form)" ] |
    path join | path expand
  mkdir ($node | path dirname)
  try { http get ([ $base wp v2 $path ] | path join) | save -f $node }
}

Ready? Here goes.

let base = wp base 'https://wordpress.org'

timeit { [
 posts pages comments media users
 categories tags taxonomies types statuses
 settings themes search plugins
 block-types blocks block-renderer block-directory/search
] | each {|label| wp dump $base $label } }

# for a colleague's domain:
# 21sec 895ms 964µs 817ns

Of course, if you prefer a non-yml dump, pass in one of these extensions under -f:

➜ scope commands
    | where name starts-with "to "
    | insert extension { get name | str replace -r "^to " "" | $"*.($in)" }
    | select extension name
    | rename extension command

╭────┬────────────┬─────────────╮
│  # │ extension  │   command   │
├────┼────────────┼─────────────┤
│  0 │ *.csv      │ to csv      │
│  1 │ *.html     │ to html     │
│  2 │ *.json     │ to json     │
│  3 │ *.md       │ to md       │
│  4 │ *.msgpack  │ to msgpack  │
│  5 │ *.msgpackz │ to msgpackz │
│  6 │ *.nuon     │ to nuon     │
│  7 │ *.text     │ to text     │
│  8 │ *.toml     │ to toml     │
│  9 │ *.tsv      │ to tsv      │
│ 10 │ *.xml      │ to xml      │
│ 11 │ *.yaml     │ to yaml     │
│ 12 │ *.yml      │ to yml      │
╰────┴────────────┴─────────────╯

For completeness, here is a multi-format dump:

let base = wp base 'https://wordpress.org'

let labels = [
 posts pages comments media users
 categories tags taxonomies types statuses
 settings themes search plugins
 block-types blocks block-renderer block-directory/search
]

let forms = [ csv json yml ]

timeit { $labels | each {|l| $forms | each {|f|
  wp dump -f $f $base $l
} } }

Yeah! Such a nice backup already.

➜ tree wordpress.org
wordpress.org
├── block-directory
├── blocks.csv
├── blocks.json
├── blocks.yaml
├── blocks.yml
├── categories.json
├── categories.yaml
├── categories.yml
├── comments.json
├── comments.yaml
├── comments.yml
├── media.json
├── media.yaml
├── media.yml
├── pages.json
├── pages.yaml
├── pages.yml
├── posts.json
├── posts.yaml
├── posts.yml
├── search.json
├── search.yaml
├── search.yml
├── statuses.json
├── statuses.yaml
├── statuses.yml
├── tags.json
├── tags.yaml
├── tags.yml
├── taxonomies.json
├── taxonomies.yaml
├── taxonomies.yml
├── types.json
├── types.yaml
├── types.yml
├── users.json
├── users.yaml
└── users.yml

If you have a local copy of zip, yay!

zip -r wordpress.zip wordpress.org/*

Since I'm on NixOS I'm going to use a small prefix here:

nix-shell -p zip --run 'zip -r wordpress.zip wordpress.org/*'

Now, I'm going through this process to help a colleague, so this is a good place to email off the ZIP file, to see if she has any issues with how the records came back.

I'm eager to press ahead and look at a few newer CMS options for her! A couple ones I already have my eye on:

• Beacon
• Solid & MDX

Plus, the Awesome SelfHosted page has 40 more options for a CMS upgrade - of course, including WordPress.

Here in Sioux Falls, I had a nice and prolific day of blogging from the local library, finally digging into the lessons I learned about WordPress.

I had planned to be around here tomorrow also, only the rain has come in and I'm eager to spin the rubber again.

Here are the pending goals on the business road map:

I'm unsure how far I'll go tonight, especially in dense rain and darkness. Either Sioux City or Omaha sounds good.

I'll log in from one of those public libraries tomorrow, and then put more miles on in the evening each day.

My main concern, and hurry, is that I've run out of protein - and after adding up that $1 of gas buys me 10km of progress on road, my $96 (+ $50 bank courtesy margin) has no additional room for food.

Rather than end up in a panic in a couple days, or try to rush headlong in one day burning more gas than I can afford, I'm going to edge closer and gradually closer each day, snacking on bare pasta & curry mixes, and crumbling cookies into my morning oats.

Oh yes, if you are concerned to see me in good shape by the end of this, the only payments I can process now need to go through Venmo; Stripe is examining my submissions to clear me for the subscription & sponsorship model I hope to add to the blog soon.

Glad you're along for the ride! GPS logs are in the backlog.

Tony,

How generous, or perhaps unduly hopeful, of you to imply that the only thing holding up payment of my membership fees is a failure of billing receipt. On three separate occasions in the prior six weeks, my access to money has dropped to four dollars or less, ignoring the sizable balance due on banking credit, and monthly bills that upon any passable chance, are delayed to be paid on the final possible day.

As you properly recalled, I've been on the road for two weeks for a conference in Denver, and I did find a number of new colleagues there, one of whom is eager to pay for my help. Although I have been denied by payment processors before - PayPal accused me of laundering money in a recorded call during my first week of business - if I can secure a Stripe account I may be able this week to process my company's first income after being incorporated more than a year. As is, the first invoices I charge may hardly be enough to secure gasoline to reach the Chesapeake again. Describing this as a dry spell is equally both comical and real; I run an incredibly dry, spelling business.

Of course there is more to say concerning this predicament, and of course I am also eager for a drop of liquid money, especially because I am so unskilled in demanding any.

By one direction or another, the process shall reach a clean resolution; I am also behind on my biannual corporate filing, and unless I pay the late fee due to DC in a month, there shall no longer be a legal body for you to charge - I'd remain happy to read any emails you send, until the domain expires, and you have my number so long as you can reach me on the line.

Cheers,
Calliope Y

in Proton Mail,  ########@operand.online
in Signal,       ########.##
in secure,       202-###-####

I'm unsure when I saw you last; coulda been a few occasions this year, or more likely six years ago. I'm unsure I'd recognize you, because so many people seem to bear close resemblance, and I lack courage to speak to any of them, so sharp the reacción condicióned in me.

My body somehow responds to the idea of you, even six years on, perhaps because of unhandled psychoses that you played a special role in amplifying, or quelling, or reshaping. Psychosis normally binds to its surroundings, and for a year you had become my primary surrounding.

Then, an absence you described as necessary; I had been too much bound up in the churn to say.

And as I came back again, I could only see the idea of your surrounding me again, although both of our condicións had changed in differing direccións. No connección could be held, either on line or on schedule.

Besides, my psychosis had become depression and I'd quickly reach despair. Maybe I'd already been there.

By now I could probably do a clinical appraisal of my psychosis, although I'm more curious today to share the main symptom, the sensación that creeps up to hold me back, to produce the lack of sleep and cheer, keeping no one near as I regress in fear.

So, dear;

I left you to go home to my family, because my childhood had raised me, condicióned me, to imagine them as the only people who could reliably be around. The only people I could come back to. I guess my brother escaped this problem, being young enough to keep the school years from coinciding with the nomadism. He'd come upon his share of psychic problems soon enough, and some of them I see that his elder siblings may have misguided him to.

My sister and I squarely realized the challenges of losing friends, early and often, as we moved from place to place.

She seemed to use this to a degree she could build upon, becoming socially curious and building an image to please her peers, making sensible relaciónship choices so as to ground her in an upholdable posición.

I seemed too eager to be lost in my mind.

I already explained some, the scenario surrounding my childhood displacement. Can probably say no more here. Only consequence remains.

The first year we shared had been one to bounce around cities, occupying numerous homes, making do on quick morning coffee and donut runs in shops we'd never see again.

I guess the only Voodoo donuts we ordered to share presaged the dirección of our relación; the courier who carried our order pulled onto the platform, moments after our train pulled out of Portland's station. Our enthusiasm for celebración following a long train ride quickly chilled to make sense of landing in a new city, hungry and poorly prepared. Alas, such is deployment.

The mood had been chilled even approaching the train ride, as we began to depart from the station in Oakland, and I needed a moment in my head to guard against all the memories. Train lines run through my head since my earliest recolleccións, across one continent or another, from child's toy tracks to high speed manga, express lines and sleeper cars thunder in my dreams.

All the same, I remember the ride that February to be magnificent. Of course I had my camera on, snapping, rolling; the records now reside on some disc among thousands I no longer look through; magnetic zeroes in a null space, chilled signals.

You and our colleague succeeded that year while I succumbed, deeper and deeper to my unspoken psychosis. I'm unsure how to describe the full breadth of the issue, for fear of implicating the people who deserve nor earned no sympathy.

By the end of the year we had made a company, and I declined to be on board, and I ran home because my experience said that friends expire after a year.

Your car pulled from the platform, and I'm riding home on my bike carrying all the baggage.

The following few years are now a challenge to recall; they began a process where I enabled my parents, bullies throughout my childhood, to begin dehumanizing me to a degree that chills, and has me holding back screams each day, learning to use a calm demeanor to keep anyone from approaching.

The calm is practiced, an exercise learned from being undermined again and again, whenever emoción is displayed.

I no longer experience normal, baseline emoción; the ones that bind people together in relaciónships, the ones that build camaraderie or happy dependence.

The emocións I display to my peers are ones of concern - or occasional accusación, scalding scolding, challenges to endure. The emocións I keep for myself are the anger and pain and longing and misery. On Tuesday I decided I'm done with anger, and so now I am seeking a means of chilling the pain, before I proceed farther.

In any case, the dehumanización had a solid hold on me, from housing (basements seem the only place appropriate for me), to employment (financial bondage to the oppression).

By now too many people read these pages for me to properly curse the memories and summon the hellish doom of my parents, in the usual manner, that has been healing to me for the same reasons that it has kept them from speaking to me.

I sense some small solace in realizing they are scared of me, and although this had to begin physically, through years of learning and applying martial arts, and carrying blades to use on nearby furniture, I am of course eager to bring that respect into the psychich domain.

Hence, I impress how simple the process of exposing my adolescent experiences may be, in case I choose to do so, although I am unsure how I can learn to laugh at the process, I guess I'd find some amusing humor in forcing them to explain their decisions or accións.

And as I go off on them again, I realize this is precisely how they earn a place in my mind; they creep up and re-apply a hold on me for reasons I'm unsure I can guard off.

All I can do is realize their despicable condicióning, once it begins gripping me again, and chill the impulses. Undermine the scream before release. Channel the sound to song, as I am learning from the bouyant birds and the bards.

Odd, how so much leads me back to my experiences of today, of this season, of this year; as soon as I begin remembering those years ago. Perhaps the years of bouncing from place to place disrupted my learning of object permanence.

Sure seems like I abandon people more quickly than normal, imagining that holding on is useless, embracing the emoción is dangerous, sharing the pain is impossible.

As is, when I engage in discussion of an emociónal caliber, among my peers and in the mood of building one another up, I usually collapse and hold back and sink deeper into the memories of years ago, the places gone by, the people I abandoned and am hopeless to see again, the relaciónships that did expire, more because of my poisoned and hopeless aura than of a core problem in their makeup or composición.

And realizing that the problem has a source in my choices, I do on occasion persuade my body to examine those abandonments, to realize the absence is mine more than anyone else's, and to choose to be present in places I had once sensed home.

So much can be done to address psychosis simply by looking on faces you recognize, hearing the circles of dialogue hold you in place and lead you along, realizing you are embedded in a fluid medium, a biology of many bodies held up by mutual embrace.

And of course the memory I am unable to escape; the sharp slice of the judge's hammer onto the bench, and your departure from the room and from any possible reach.

In a year I'd already lost my home, and the only relacións to seem reliable to me, and hope of normal employment...

the barrage reached new depths; your "no" had been a glimmer of a whisper until it became a guillotine, and any remaining hope I had held to cleanly disappeared from my body as you ambled from the room, careless, holding your chin high.

My progress towards rebuilding my career suddenly became numbed reaccións aimed at bandaging the financial bleeding; I had in one moment become unable to depend either on friend, or colleague, or seducción; you had been all three, and the only one remaining of each.

Even today I collect many business cards, phone numbers, names, I never call upon. I hold them, a social hoard of unmade conneccións.

I suppose I could make plans, only I see no place they could lead to.

The deepest pain of the psychosis is how people all begin looking the same; sounding the same, discussing in the same circular rhythm and cadence, that has no break, no chance for silence or end, absorbing the insanity around and compounding the problems of one season into the riddle or moan of the following.

And back then you had seemed to be saying something to me that I missed, again and again; riddles that I could hardly grasp at, odd phrases that seemed to send me deeper into loneliness, rather than asking for my engagement or presence. Maybe the only thing we recognized in each other was a similar psychosis, siblings who have been displaced again and again, for whom no corner of the globe is an enduring home.

Even that condición had us more than sure we would cross paths again; there are only so many roads from one place to the next, and an area only begins to seem spacious when you're used to hiding in a small den.

So, I had been burning of rage, my collapsing despair blooming into a rebellious flame of acción, reacción, compacción.

And thereupon, in such a mood, carrying gloom and grim hellish resignación, I came back to see you, the abandoner finally abandoned.

And all I could do had been to see those around me, examine the bridges closely before burning them up.

And I came to you asking for the depths of your sadness to cool my rage, and you shared them, and we lie in bed mociónless and soundless and lonely as can be.

And I gave you permission, said these bridges hold you back, seem unable to hold you up, as their base begins to crack.

And so you used your chance, and burned the bridge arching across our common ground, and as the collapsing span of years ago echoes as daily fears of hearing "no", I rise again this summer morning and feel the chills.

As I had been saying, research can assume all manner of shapes and procedures. The "social sciences" are simply a more squishy and bumpy area to explore than an equipment-lined clean room.

Operand is primarily concerned by the research of homelessness, and the resilience of cyber communicación in such scenarios.

In essence, hou come so many people become blocked from the social dialogue?

The applicación of research can perhaps someday be used in emergency response, in the coordinación of meal prep and dispensación, and in the organizing of labor for mutual aid and co-operación.

This is research of local organizing, of group formación, religion, and litigación, of composición and deposición.

The shape of this research has changed by some crucial measures in the course of business, as we learn neu means of exploring and explaining such þemes.

Some day þese pages are going to add an opción to change grapheme clusters,
such as español's -ción -> english's -tion,
and the runic þ -> th or θ.
soon enough, full languages could be co-mapped alongside one another.

Language concerns aside (for now) - I'd like to press my keys this morning in deference to the primary concerns of many people who, like me, experience occasional homelessness or nomadism.

Access to social scenes and dialogue requires only a couple basic resources. Many can be ignored or neglected, although care should be applied to ensure that a balance is held - slipping social norms need to be measured by peers, and in many cases the loss of such peer relaciónships spells social suicide, on a local scale.

These basic resources, aside from the biological, can be spelled out simply as: key & card.

Your key may be a home, or a shelter - an electronic fob or a metal-encoded shape. A key endorses someone's admission to a secure place.

In case of a home, the key is accompanied by re-energizing access to water, fire, and repose.

In case of a car, the key is permission for moción, for escape, for exploración.

Neither one does much good unless you're carrying a card; either issued by a bank or by a state, displaying further permission to make social progress.

For an ID issued by government, you may gain license for mobility; or by a business, license for income. Issued by a bank, permission to demand resources from others, in the customary norms of the markets.

I had lost my driver's license a few months ago, and sought eagerly any chance to replace it from the state; such efforts had quickly been found out after the mail was returned.

At the DMV, I had been handed pages of referrals to social service agencies, and told to pursue an ID voucher before I came back.

Of three pages of listed agencies, I asked around the city and learned that one, or perhaps two, remain in operación this year after harsh cuts to their funding.

I had been asked to appear in line by 6:45 for admission to the agency at 9am; alongside nearly 50 others, I stood in line to see scarcely any of us make the cut.

The recepciónista explained, there is only one case manager here.

I exclaimed, there is only one agency in the city.

And so here I am, applying.

The preceding four days are immensely memorable, up to and including the dreams I had on each night and the morning coffee rituals.

I am drained. I cried in the office gazing at blank walls and windows, and then pulled over driving home to cry again on the sidewalk.

I picked up drawing again for the first time in six years, and swam for the second time in the same span.

I missed my normal open mic night on Tuesday because I had to deploy a production client app from the bed of my pickup in a rainstorm, in Capitol Hill in DC before all of my energy expended.

I could go on, and on, and on - only I already filled four pages of my diary to explain three days of this saga.

I'm splashing through memories I have had no recollection of for years, in sharp clarity and agonizing scope. I am seriously changing how I carry my body and my reactions to any of the scenarios I am coming across.

So, rather than drive home in that mood, I pulled over, as I said, to cry.

And I checked the schedule of my local bar, called As You Are. And I see that there is "Shower Karaoke" tonight and I remember some of the singers there had been leading some really good discussions.

And I'd like one more sample of the scene there. My songs are coming along, and I'm gaining experience, only I think they may end up only as poems.

I'm ready to see how much I can expand my range, and pop into the popular song selection, and see how my cooing cadence aligns alongside the normal repetetetoire.

So, one more drip in the ocean of emoción I'm carrying along these days, hope to see people I recognize and scream as much moody blue bliss as possible.

A loud scream, harmonious enough alone, commanded silence in the room - only long enough, and quickly concluded by "please get away from me."

I quickly passed the paper crane I'd been folding onto the glass DJ cabinet beside us, and headed to collect my bags near the door. I needed a couple more passes to grab my bo and the origami paper that had somehow been absorbed into the board game pile near the end of the bar.

I'd been unsurprised, because really - anything could'a gone down that night. I'd abandoned my hold on the place, on any sensible discretion, and passed the obligation along to someone else. Besides, I'd long ago realized hardly anyone likes me around.

I'd been going to the shows for around six months, mainly as a dancer, because her band's synth and percussion mix had been beyond any other genre I'd heard - after the first show when I had seen her play solo, I surprised my diary by adding some lyrics - a couple of songs, edging in on rap.

In the six months from then to now I've had a chance to speak 2 of them at open mic nights around DC - there's another open mic that is more musically inclined, and so I need to prepare some melodies properly to gain access.

The one piece of lyrics I've not performed, aside from the many song fragments on my phone's audio recorder, is the song I originally made in response to her music; I read her one of the lines I'd made from that piece, the 3rd show:

"A spark explodes, forbodes attack of fear and panic and dread, how I can see, how you can hear how much is going unsaid."

And largely, this is all I'd been able to share in the following six months; from October through to May I'd been in the audience, sharing my odd series of motions, absorbing the shake of the air from the speakers, demanding my body to bounce, spin, roll, on the drop of each drum stick.

And I expanded my range by an incredible measure, in dancing and beyond; since realizing my lyrics are simplest to express as rap, I am focusing on my breathing in the middle of rapid, busy scenarios. This has led me to examine slam poetry, and beat boxing; one night after a show at Holy Frijoles in Baltimore, I happened across a homeless man who heard my whistle and challenged me to join him in a song - he began a rhythm on a nearby table as I chirped birdsong to accompany.

And, realizing that festival season means large outdoor celebrations, I emphasized my bo exercises from my martial arts background - a large, un-dense, flexible wooden staff I could spin in innumerable stanzas of mechanical moción.

I use this daily to capture the gaze of onlookers in festivals, as soon as I come into range of a band, permitting enough space in the surroundings, I pick up my cadence to theirs, and close off my mind from all, beside the barest glimpses of the world beyond the reach of my hands.

A mime can imagine they are bound inside of a box; they demarc their posición by clear signage, and use the space they command in a dramatically unique manner compared to their peers looking on. In my case, I equally choose a region of space to command, and mine becomes fluidic; beginning open, permeable, and as I lean my bo across my body, clench my wrist to send the other end up and through a memorable cycle, I build a boundary line; good for ten seconds or so, until I come around again and refresh the marc - to remind onlookers.

And so the bo is already spinning, and my hands are dancing as quickly as an eye can keep up, and I do glimpse many eyes; I learn to hold gazes only for the quickest span of milliseconds, because more than I like - someone's gaze pulls me so fiercely, or they approach in such a manner as to command my consideration, and the necessary focus on the bo slips, and a loud smack on the ground reminds me that I had a role to play here. I lose no moment before I re-acquire my grip, and the spin resumes.

I do a common cadence in front of my body, both hands in the middle and flashing fore and back, each peck at the bo bringing another full cycle, as my wrists form opposing bends to equal the momentum.

As my assurance builds, and I gain a feel for the speed, and my hands and arms and core and hips and legs shake the sleep or complacency or road rage from the prior hours, I begin to pause the spin, or bend the arc, to accomplish new paþs; a neu boundary line, perhaps by changing the arm I use, or by taking a step through the middle of the cycle, and bringing my back to the audience, or by expanding my range in a lurching forward roll; the bo collapsing to a single line by my side, or in some cases, demanding sacrifice of a nearby tree branch, as I display the speed and precision I can embed into the opposite end. Each explosion of moción, each change in boundary, requires regression.

As I resume a common cadence, and ease my mood to a calm pace, and use a small moment to breathe easier, and perhaps re-learn the gaze of those people around me, who have seen nothing similar beyond the bounds of cinema, I decide how much energy I can use in the follo'ing phrase.

As I explore the fair, going from one zone to another, perhaps chasing the sound stages, I ease the moción, nearly to equal a simple hiking staff; only on each placement of the staff, I bring my hand around, allowing my moción to bring the bo into a rolling amble by my side; one end, then the other, taps the ground in a measure proporciónal to my speed, and as the crowd becomes dense or sparse, I add a small flourish, or else hold in place, my energy reaching across to amplify those people nearest to me.

I had considered on many occasions that I am seen perhaps as a nuisance. This band I'd been playing groupie, or roadie, for - they had made no ask of me for my participación. I suppose that my road-bound rituals keep me from making, or holding, normal friendships; and so concert announcements on Instagram can seem to fill the missing gap of invitación, inclusion, that anyone begins to yearn for.

Too much exclusion, of being held on the periphery of social circles, begins to bear in on a psyche; isolación needs to be learned, and is a dangerous enemy for a mind used to social confinement. The liberación of solitude is only realized by learning the skills of resilience, the demand that a body needs to be in moción to earn the comforts a body demands.

And so there is no couch for me to lean on, no reclining until I am ready for sleep, no sleep until I reach the end of my chosen road, no road until I fill my belly and clear my mind, and no meal until I clean and expel the grime of the prior night. The grueling demands of unclear, endlessly changing surroundings.

This in my mind, I call resilience; and as much as I imagine that I need to harden myself for the rigors of the cycle, I find that such hardening can quickly drain my mood, or energy, or physical endurance; and for sure it keeps me at odds to my peers, who are more likely than anything to spin a day into an upredic'able debacle.

And so isolación builds resilience, only leads one into an unclear landscape of imaginación; are those people in the audience speaking of me, and how so? Is my appearance drab, or scary, and do I have the energy to care? Should I have shaved or done make-up, before pulling myself from the car to dance for all of their amusement?

And hardening yourself to these social morés, is necessary; social scenes depend on compliance to keep all in a calm mood. To be seen, to be remembered, requires your noncompliance, and so a hardening phase is necessary, an isolación to explore the cases where you can indeed abandon the human conneccións around you, and the cases where to do so is a horror, or a danger, or suicide.

So long under isolación's spell, and I had been bearing silence in large rooms. So many of the discussions I bring myself to use language I'm unsure around - I no longer rely or depend or am reassured, by ideas of joy or love; and this may be a phrasing issue. Passion, amor, seem more applicable.

Only none of my peers use such language; they see me dance and they say I dance beautifully. When I explain the martial arts I studied, they explain theirs. We both agree that dancing is a more noble pursuance, only I have no phrase to offer in the moment to express this idea. I lapse on my end of the discussion, remembering this to bring up again.

I could explain my qualms around English; the amalgamación of ideas being so clumsy in applicación, and unusually garish in expression.

I can apologize for my silence in language by saying, many of the earliest sounds I remember came from speakers of Japanese, where language is a percussive drumming of reassuring consonance.

Only, to argue a king you need to speak in a king's language.

To challenge a monarch head-on, you need to dance in their hall.

And is the energy there, to do so?

Expulsion is assured as soon as one breaks their assigned or chosen role, and can come across as relief in comparison to the daily caprice, the bending and breaking of one's body to earn a smile, or a glance.

The halls of memory, echoing age upon age, are cold, and lined in sharp edges.

The easy day comes in goes in a flash of decadence; a memory designed to endure decades has to be fired in pain.

I arose gradually, this morning in the bed of my pickup, and composed a day.

The day is a rare one, and one I am inexperienced in, although necessarily one I should be happy to recycle again and again as I age.

I made my coffee, and peering through a scrying glass to see peers across our globe share unique and demanding skills, I had been inspired to examine the changes I'd made in my surroundings, since this period a year ago. One solar cycle carries so much space.

Composing a reliable day, in essence, requires abandoning some ideals. Daily experience has led me to realize my base assumpcións are misplaced, and hence so the imagined scenarios of social order and relacións, long imagined, that could place me securely in a role I had aimed for.

My composed day should, more than any glorious or prideful aims, be in the least a possible one, and one unburdensome on my energies. Human social roles change, as commercial scenes demand, and perhaps human social success may also be changing in appearance, from embodying pride, to securing a much more humble peace. My composed day is here included:

I arose gradually, this morning in the bed of my pickup, and composed an essay.

I recall the locación I landed, the miles spun under the rubber shed a day ago. Grasping on the final breeze of dreamy psychosis, I spin and reach ahead, leaning through the cloudy fog of days to come, as the glen I parked in exhales the dew it soaked in through the cold night.

I made my coffee, and peering inside a local pane of pixels I laboriously press on, my rythmic cadence reaching to encode symbols and small shards of logic into a memory card, so I can soon send messsages along pulsing radiación, to be echoed in grand display across some-anon's unseen screen.

My coffee expended and recycled and sealed aside, and my organs pushed to their peak gear, I clean my body upon damp cloth and roll from the bed to do some physical drills; my muscles happily engaged in an exercise they occasionally hum in my sleep.

My social obligacións beginning once those of my peers are ended, I am able to spend a couple hours searching a map of nearby businesses, or else lend my hand to building my innocuous mobile home; the fading green of my car-plant reminding me of how small psychic energies, once made physical and properly cared to, repay the same generous energy again and again, in small doses as they labor inside their binds to oppose decay.

Near dusk, the roads become dense again, so I'm happily in place and parked near the peers I pledged the day to. Perhaps I spun more miles, by car or bike, and surely more are needed to de-urbanize, to escape before sleep claims me again. The roads and radio programs drain my mind as darkness drains the sky, and perhaps I am held conscious for some hours in the grips of the animal sounds around me, as I compose my dreams of more days to come.

• Scrubcore, beginnings.
• [Hou come scraping is necessary?][#necessary]
• [Hou come scraping is dangerous?][#dangerous]

Scrubcore began online and physically; in online spaces designed around sharing physical experiences, and in physical spaces organized around producing more, on line.

So, as to be precise and clear; the DC region had a bunch of disillusioned engineers, seeking refuge from the predominant corporaciónal pseudo-order. Also seeking companionship, rare laughs, occasional chemical escapes, and a more nuanced sense of their posición and dirección, long careers impending.

Hold on, did I say engineers? Probably is a simple reason the remainder had been incomprehensible.

Online spaces are broken. I could say they suffer from a lack of open-ness, or commercialización, only I'm realizing those accusacións only make heads nod; and my need is to induce grasping hands, and punching fingerpads, and limber lips and lengua, channeling lunges of loud lungs.

So I'll describe my experience.

I am only an engineer by lack of more applicable label; really, engines scare me. I could probably lose a finger, and I'd be lost without any of my fingers.

All of this space you see around these phrases - produced by my fingers. They're close to my soul, and carry the soul ahead and usually lead the soul on.

My fingers learned to play music, and they bring the percussion of music to bear on the language I speak and impress in keys.

So engines are really dangerous to someone in my position, and I mainly operate as a consumer of the moción an engine produces, so I can bring my skilled fingers from one place to another, to plug in cables and compose essays and share code I imagine can help people.

So, lacking a proper label on my career, this 'formerly-called' engineer has a rich experience in an also-poorly-labeled practice called "web scraping".

Web scraping - uh, is the idea behind search engines. I build logical programs to copy online pages, enough said.

Only, are these logical programs, or mechanical? The pages are assuredly less than logical. And mechanics are present all across online spaces, because those spaces are managed by innumerable machines.

Some people describe the different "logics" of social media domains, in in the same breath can discuss the "mechanics" of a video game.

To me this is nonsense, they are made of the same pieces - machine code. Procedures.

So, because "machine" may also be a bad descripción, I'll err on the side of processors and procedures, and label the essence of programming to be 'logic'. This seems to be aligned to the origins of the discipline; the deposición of logical analogues into electrical meshes.

Those electrical meshes are the real machines, and you can go deeply enough in the idea space to imagine that all logic really is a machine; and so is all math and language.

I do encourage you to aspire to such insanity; as the prizes are numerous, rich, and amusing.

Web scraping is a bad idea - legally in many cases, and also once again because of the encumberances of language. People really imagine the space nonsensically, so I hope I can reduce the pace enough to glimpse the core issue.

Here goes:

• [Hou come scraping is necessary?][#necessary]
• [Hou come scraping is dangerous?][#dangerous]

Hou come scraping is necessary?

Chances are, there are search engines older than you are. This only holds for some of the audience here, although my guess is that people older than search engines are going to need a long while to come around to this publicación. The young are leading our ideology these days.

Only the oldest social media, forums (including email groups), are older than search engines; forums had been enough for the needs of early online denizens, because there had hardly been enough internet to go around; you could be sure that if someone made a website you liked, they'd be talking about it on their nearest forum.

Simple recipe, and had held up for years.

Only, more people published, and genres and themes became mixed up. Forums needed to be spread by lip-speak, in analog sound-space. Sloppy and slou.

So Larry Page designed a huge ungainly index, by draining the large bank accounts that had probably purchased him admission to U of M. No problem, I hear he filled them back up soon enough.

Suddenly, he had the slickest forum-slayin' asocial social net(worth) of all. He became a librarian of the unbound volumes across cyberspace. Please, hold your applause.

This is the recipe behind so-called "scraping"

• Choose an online address.
• Make code to copy the page, so you can read the page locally & offline.
• Make code to pull all the meaningful links from your copy of the page.
• These links are new online addresses, and you probably care enough to scrape them also.
• Hold up! There's paragraphs and images and sounds and so on!
  • Make up meaning from the madness, and arrange that mess into a readable or searchable shape.
  • Call this re-shaped arrangement an index.
• (optional) Make code to permit anyone to search your index.
• (optional) Make logs of all the searches your users run.
• (optional) Sell your logs and page space to hungry corporations.

So this is hou Google came to be, and they remain to this day the only search engine on earth.

Only, Larry had a problem in the humanities courses as a child, and only learned to use 4 crayon colors and spell basic nonsense. Although he liked to doodle, he had much more luck in maths.

So Larry, seemingly in admiración for Tom Sawyer's fencing efficiencies, began calling loudly about how simple it could be to paint a screen blanc.

This angered many of his peers, who liked being busy more than doing good business, and they all agreed to pay him for a chance to de-muralize his pages. Really, the commercialización of search engines is an homage to the iconic success of urban graffiti programmes, in an age when access to good taggable turf had been rarer than real grass roots.

Hou come scraping is dangerous?

I'm glad we came across to a graffiti analogy, because paint & scraping go hand-in-hand. Although two hands so pre-occupied are unlikely to be-hold each other as friendly, both occupacións are in the end, handy analogies.

In common cases of graffiti causing serious offense to the sensible official whose parking space has been re-de-sign-ated as an in-sign-ificant peanut's galleria, a scraper may be commissioned to clean the space; replacing a blanc-et ing aura of calm to the parking place. Parks should be calm, no? Sensible as usual.

So, this cleaning occurs in a couple phases:

• Scrape da colors, causing bonded chemical chips to be carried off in the breeze to the underground passages and from thence to the nearby rivers, streams, and oceans, to finally be rearranged and made palatable by your neighborhood sushi supplier.
• Apply thorough layers of the original (usually un-)colored chemical poción, normally years ahead of the recommended replacement schedule.

In the process, the place under inquiry has been erased of the compelling media!

A clean space beckons more eager hands to learn skills of graphic expression; because if such expressionism were in less demand, the large newspapers would be happy enough to use the same spread day after day, rather than expending on neu composicións. Human spaces require applicación of meaning and media.

Sorry, once again, how come scraping is dangerous?

Oh, uh. because, um. Eh. I guess the machines you're using, to copy from other machines, require energy. The other machines also have many people to speak to today, see? their calendars are very full and they can't have you barging in here just like that to demand all the hours of the day when there is a line out the door a thousand people long - and there's going to be another thousand coming in the next hour, so this DMV really does need to trim the line here and ask you to come back another day, YES with a real appointment this time, and see if you can capture the manager's attention with this request, which I'm sure is as big a concern to me as it seems to be to you.

If you don't buzz off soon, pal, I'm calling the firm of Flair & McLeod, who would be happy to take up your case in the rate-limited alley parking space.

So, in conclusion, scraping is a horrible descripción of the problem space. All you're doing is asking for copies of your records, when other people are in line to do the same. And sure, you need to honor peoples' time and energy and make sure you're copying as quickly as possible and leaving enough for the people behind you to also make do - it sure would be nice if the terms of the on-premise lawyers would ease up - the office is making like you're walking into the Louvre with a chisel in one hand, and bucket of dry-erase in the other.

Oh yeah, scrub core.

Sure is lucky some dumb apes like us are more skilled using machines than coins'n'phrases.

Long ago, all of us agreed the proper means of sharing a cool rock is to place paper on it, and then rub charcoal on that. And yeah, Larry - you need to bring your own paper. The labs here at U of M charge $0.05 a page, and maybe you could help us find the 'cent' symbol on our keyboards again.

This process of rudimentary copy-making has since been called 'rubbing one out', and is the basis for a neu genre of prose and humanity (humanities, singular) hereby labeled 'scrub-core'.

Because the problems cleanly described by our many arguments about scraping seem to be illuminated by scrubbing the sc from the phrase, and realizing that some dialects imagine the phrase to be a cleaning process, while others are more inclined to see the damages of a rape as inseperable from the experience.

Meanwhile, erryone likes rubbing.

Yeah, erryone. I see you.

I mean, really, I do see you all more than you see me; and that's the issue I'm hoping to clean up here. All of us coders are really practiced at hiding meaning inside of decisions, and then hiding decisions inside of experiences, and then hiding experiences behind messages, and then messages under dialogue. Social engineering. Less scary than you'd imagine, and as normal - a huge mess to scrub.

Dependency rings oddly in my mind; a combinación of necessary and despicable, a condición I'd like to erase from my presence, and a condición inescapable, a consequence of biology and sociology.

As a young one, my dependencies on my mom and dad held me up; I had no language and hardly enough educación to speak up enough, to say I disagreed when I did; and I did often.

My primary philosophy as a child became obedience; my primary emotion a smouldering, silent, and borderline dangerous anger. I could hardly be made to respond to aggression or similar baitings; I rehearsed a deadening glare that chilled anyone seeking to press me.

I suppose this hardening process, spun into and around my childhood to such a degree, has endured into the beginnings of my middle age - 32 for another couple months. I am beginning to shed some of the anger, and some curious images come to mind during the process.

Someone has been open and eager enough to hold me, on occasional evenings I roam the area with no easy home lined up. They push me, and I make small noises, and embrace their dominance, and become happy in how much they can do, and how much I see them change from night to morning.

As they push me, I am realizing how rare my choice of submission may be; so many years of spinning my anger inwards has made me happy to be depressed, pliable in response to impression, and shapable as clay when someone has an idea to express on me.

I absorb the anger she places on me, and I sense emotions I long ago became bored by. Yes, anger begins as a searing heat and quaking dread, a realization of suffocation and a panic of rebellion.

As age creeps in and the anger has no place to go, the density of the emotion seeps into your bones, rather than your muscles. The endurance of anger brings... calm, oddly.

The calm is not comfortable, or cozy, or desirable. A calmed anger is a much more cold calculus, a complex that consumes a psyche and rebases any id it comes across, a response reflex that produces immediate changes, absorbing and compounding and rebounding offending stimuli, to amplify dangers through parry and backlash, so that years of learned and sharpened precision and accuracy can someday claim succession over the oppression of one's surroundings - only as much as needed, and only aligned to the harms one has undergone.

My sample size of psyche is only one, and maybe my experiences are unique enough to keep me from speaking broadly.

Although, I see in my companions how much these emotions are mirrored, in moods that come and go easily, in anger that is quick to recede and in compassion that can only be hard-earned.

I am surrounded by conscious minds that are immensely guarded, and seek to guard the peers among us whose boundaries occasionally slip. Those who need more space and comprehension to learn that no one else besides a body can be responsible for a body, or else necessarily succumbs to repression.

These peers embody repression, the condición of childhood experiences passed along by earlier generacións, when open discussion had been shunned and public spaces clearly delineated by rules of colony and pseudoreligion.

Among all else I can say of these peers, all of us are pleased to break the rules.

Lucky there are so many to break, and sad to say so. Those rules are solemnly upheld by ferocious soldiers, who subscribe, describe, and prescribe a godly mythology, thousands of years debunked.

Senseless of the pain their educación can cause, the pupils who escape unharmed - the normalized ones, are happy to spread the boundaries of normal, to middle their posición among their peers, and push the bounds of their normal into the shrinking margins, to claim that boundaries of sociology are as real as physical phenomena, and the norms of ancient religious breeding programs can cause no possible damage when embraced by a species, which has become 1000x more populous than the originators of the dogma.

This species, spread as densely as possible among such scarce resources, is doubling down on gambles made millenia ago.

Taboo, ceremony, shunning, and a lack of nuance all long predate our human exploración of biology, and the lessons shared by innumerable sibling species, screaming '¡reproducción no es sufficiente!'

And biology's lessons here are echoed in those smaller sects, the ones the Europeans like to call "hidden", the ones who are in their essence, sufficient enough alone.

These groups all realized, as early or long before the Mediteranean ideal of fruitful multiplication, that animalism and humanism go far beyond organic reproducción. That there are necessary and sensible consequences that can only be accomplished by pursuing less. That a populación's numbers only become significant when one group has bloodlust for another, and that a process as complex and precious as sexual combinación is impaled as a specimen by legal codes requiring monogamy, or condemning freedoms of choice, bodily autonomy, and open expression.

As my anger begins receding, I realize how icy I'd become. People who seemed to be warm to me, quickly realize how much of that warmth I suck up, and how minimal the response they gain from the exchange.

For a few months, I'd been an adventurous game to some, how close could you come before being bitten by the cold. Those days nearly exposed the dangerous snap of emoción, as the blizzard in my body yearned to chase the happiness I'd been perplexed to be surrounded by.

I can describe by numerous methods the consequence of this psychology; an early-life reliance on quantitative measures of success, and a consequential loss of purpose accompanying independence. No desire to help peers accomplish their happiness, because my analogy of happiness had been an escape from danger, an open space where no one could charge or challenge me. I imagined the most I could do for anyone could be to leave them alone, and so I soon began embracing loneliness as a guide.

Loneliness becomes misery; as age progresses, one realizes chances to fill in the lessons they missed as a child. One realizes that there had been precious moments of rare emotion, aside from panic and anger and pain. And one begins, gradually and screaming through the immobilización of old scars, to pursue those shimmering dreams that nearly all hope has disappeared from.

To me this process seems like dredging the floor of a lake, holding one's breath and peering through murk, small moción kicking up sandy sod, a grimy scene to drain all energies.

Although, how has one come to be so submerged, where once there had been a cold ice-scape of anger all around?

Those companions who lend their warmth and charms, who share the heat of body and song and soul, do succeed in thawing and reducing the icy lake's surface. The liquid bubbling up is no longer sharp shards of anger, only a deep pool of sadness that challenges one's breath and saps their consciousness. Dangerous to sink into for long, if you plan on rising again someday.

All the same, passable. Liquid. Mobile and embracing.

And in case one progresses deeply enough and endure, and hold enough air inside your lungs, permits one to reach solid ground again.