Ángel
@angel@triptico.com
Location: 40.4235492,-3.6617828
100 following, 195 followers
El microrrelato:
CC: @reiddragon@fedi.catto.garden @prahou@merveilles.town @cyanidesunrise@zoner.work
I'm mostly only good for complaining and shitposting but I like reading the stuff you people post
As I was heading home, I was listening to the radio for a bit. The host said something that made me think:
"I won't read the comments, because I've been studying and living what I talk about for thirty years, and I'm full of doubts. Almost everyone who comments, by contrast, heard about it yesterday and already has it all figured out. I don't want to feel stupid, so I'll gloss over them."
in the
darkest hour
of man
saddle the steed
of apocalypse
and ride with
angels of hell
#unix_surrealism #comic #tarot #occult #computers #art #fediart #triapul









Kind of translation for non-french reading people:
Dolhikhare
Vampire minimale
Minimal vampire
Quand j’étais petite, je voulais devenir une vampire.
When i was a little girl, i wanted to be a female vampire
Ok, j’étais pas petite petite.
Okay, i was not that small
J’étais même un peu trop grande je dirais. Un peu trop maigre, aussi, peut-être.
I was even a little too tall i think A little too skinny, too, maybe
C’était pas quand j’étais, genre, enfant. Ado plûtot.
It was when i was, like, a teen
Et comme tous les ados j’avais lu le livre sur les vampires beaux gosses et forts et tristes.
And as all teens i have read the book on the good looking powerful sad vampires
Alors je voulais devenir un vampire.
So i wanted to become a vampire
Tout le monde a voulu devenir vampire à un moment non ? Toi aussi ? Qu’est-ce que tu voulais fuir toi ?
Everybody wanted to become a vampire at some point, no? You too? What did you want to run away from?
Moi c’était le ciel.
Me, it was the sky
J’étais trop grande et j’arrêtais pas de grandir.
I was too tall and didn’t stop growing up
Je m’approchais dangereusement du ciel.
I was dangerously getting close to the sky
Et dans le ciel, je croyais qu’il y avait tous les morts dont on m’avait dit qu’ils étaient au ciel.
And in the sky i thought there were all the dead that they’ve told me were in the sky.
Et je n’étais pas pressée de les retrouver.
And i wasn’t eager to meet them
Alors que la plupart des filles restaient dans leur lit à écouter des cassettes avec leur walkman, attendant qu’un vampire vienne s’occuper de leur ennui, Moi j’ai décidé de prendre les choses en main.
While most girls stayed in bed listening to tapes on their walkman, waiting for a vampire to come and take care of their boredom, i decided to take matters into my own hands.
Je ne pouvais pas sérieusement compter sur mon charme mystérieux pour attirer un vampire qui aurait traîné en plein jour aux abords du collège.
I couldn’t seriously count on my mysterious charm to attract a vampire who happened to be hanging around my middle school in broad daylight.
C’était avant que ne sorte l’autre livre avec des vampires.
It was before the release of the other book with vampire
Du coup je me suis lâché les cheveux. Je les ai teints en noir corbeau avec une boite de schwarztkopf.
So i released my hair. Tainted them in crow black with a box of schwarztkopf
J’ai fait le tri dans ma garde robe.
I decluttered my wardrobe
La mère “Mais tu va pas jeter ça c’est trop mignon ! ”
The mother: “Don’t trash that it’s so nice! “
Et j’ai commencé à faire le mur la nuit.
And I started sneaking out at night.
La mère “Oublie pas ton portable ! ”
The mother: “don’t forget your phone! “
En vrai c’était super dangereux.
The truth is that it was very dangerous
Dans les années 90, en France, dans les petites villes, tout le monde croyait que les tueurs en série, les pédophiles et les violeurs, c’étaient juste dans les films américains.
In the 90’s, in France, in small towns, everybody thought that the serial killers, pedophiles and rapists existed only in american movies
Mais c’était faux.
But it was not
J’ai parcouru les ruelles les plus sombres. Sans relâche.
I scoured the darkest alleys. Relentlessly.
Et les cimetières les plus kitchs. Sans relâche.
And the cheesiest cemeteries. Relentlessly.
Je m’ennuyais pas mal. Passé 23h, en semaine, il n’y a plus personne.
I was pretty bored. Past 11 p.m. on a weekday, there’s no one left.
Des petits rats qui font les acrobates pour fouiller les poubelles. Des chiens pouilleux qui ont peur des voitures. Parfois un clodo qui arrive pas à dormir à cause de la chaleur.
Just little rats doing acrobatics to scavenge through the trash. Mangy dogs that are afraid of cars. And sometimes a vagrant who can’t sleep because of the heat.
Le weekend, par contre, c’est plein de jeunes qui font boire les filles pour les violer. Le samedi, du coup, je restais à la maison pour regarder Bichette avec mes copines.
On the weekends, though, it’s full of guys getting girls drunk so they can rape them.
So on Saturdays, I’d stay home and watch Bichette with my friends.
La copine : “Boudi, elle a le chic pour se trouver que des sales types celle-là ! ”
The friend: "Fuck, she sure has a knack for picking nothing but losers, that one! “
Malgré tous mes efforts, je n’ai jamais croisé de vampire. Ou, en tout cas, je n’ai pas réussi à attirer leur attention.
Despite all my efforts, I never crossed paths with a vampire. Or, at least, I never managed to catch their eye.
Puis, à un moment, il a bien fallu que je dorme pour pouvoir aller bosser la journée.
Then, at some point, I actually had to get some sleep so I could go to work during the day.
Et avec le temps mon envie de devenir vampire est passée.
And over time, my desire to become a vampire faded away.
Maintenant je suis à la moitié de ma vie. Heureusement j’ai arrêté de grandir. Et j’ai pris du gras, un peu, aussi.
Now, I’m halfway through my life. Fortunately, I’ve stopped growing. And I’ve put on a bit of weight, too.
Je crois que je me serais ennuyée, comme ça, toute seule, la nuit.
I think I would have been quite bored, like that, all alone at night.
À devoir tuer des gens pour manger.
Having to kill people just to eat.
Qui sait ?
Who knows?
Photo by Zoshua Colah on Unsplash
While I was doing some work around the house, a screwdriver slipped and I gave myself a small cut on my hand. Nothing serious, but I decided to disinfect it and put on a plaster. But where are the plasters? My wife thought she had put them in the bathroom cabinet, but... nothing. Failing that, I remembered there were some in the cabinet that had been moved - eleven years ago - from the old house. Old, perhaps, but probably still usable. When I opened the cabinet, I found a small cotton swab, still sealed, whose existence I had completely forgotten. I smiled - which drew my wife's curiosity - because...
That afternoon in 2011, I was on top of the world. I was getting ready for a series of connected events I had been looking forward to for some time. I was going to an introductory meeting with an important potential client - one that would have allowed me to do wonderful things - and then a journey of around 150 kilometres to somewhere else, for a rather important evening, and the following morning, another work meeting. In those two days I would lay the foundations for my entire future and, after such a long time, I was truly, truly proud. I looked at myself in the mirror before leaving the house, and I liked what I saw. My smile was full, rich, bright. I decided to take a photo of myself in front of the mirror, to capture that moment.
Keys - taken. Wallet - taken. Laptop - of course. Suitcase with everything I'll need - yes. Does the car have a full tank of diesel? Yes. After closing the shutters and taking one last satisfied look at the living room, I locked up and got into the car.
The Thick as a Brick CD - to get myself going - and off. The journey went smoothly, filled with thoughts about what I would propose, how I would play it. And the meeting was a success: their situation was a disaster, and my project would give them stability within a few days. They approved it immediately, without any hesitation. In the meantime, an unexpected message had arrived, which I only saw at the end of the meeting. This message carried considerable weight - perhaps as much as the previous meeting, though in an entirely different context - and I read it twice, feeling my heartbeat shift. I arranged an evening programme, given how close my hotel was to this person.
I put on the Thick as a Brick CD again, this time turning up the volume and driving more calmly. I watched the people in the other cars and tried to read their expressions. Now and then, someone would look back at me. Who knows whether my expression gave away my emotions. What I do know is that I got a few smiles in return.
While I was comfortably overtaking, I felt something strange in my mouth. I paid no attention - I had eaten a sandwich not long before - and carried on singing. Until the moment I glanced down and saw fresh blood on my shirt. I pulled down the sun visor and looked in the mirror. My entire mouth was red, and a trickle of blood was running down my face. I opened my mouth and saw a whole pool of fresh blood, with no way of understanding where it was coming from. I froze. I turned off the music. I indicated right and pulled into the first service area I could find.
I couldn't make sense of anything. On instinct, I just thought about rinsing. I opened a small bottle of water I had brought with me, rinsed and spat out of the car door. Again and again, but the more I rinsed, the more the blood increased. The pool beside my door had become enormous, swelled by the blood diluting with water. I decided to run to the service station bathroom.
I don't like the sight of blood - but I immediately thought to bring my bag with me, with my precious laptop inside. They get stolen all the time, precisely when you're travelling alone and you step away toward the bathroom. The blood kept flowing, kept filling my mouth. That taste, that terrible taste, wouldn't leave me. I couldn't understand. The more I tried to find the source, the more agitated I became, the more it accumulated in my mouth.
I started to feel dizzy. I couldn't tell whether it was from the fright or from losing too much blood, but in either case, there was no time to work it out. I decided to sit down, not far from the sinks, on the floor. The service station was fortunately clean, and various people were coming and going. I had come from a work meeting - I was well dressed, with my bag. I was pale, my shirt stained, and visibly worried. I decided to half-close my eyes for a moment, without allowing myself to faint - and I decided that no, I was not going to die there, like that.
Meanwhile, dozens of people came and went. Lorry drivers, family men, businesspeople, young people and not so young - it was a busy service station at peak time. And I was there, worried and deeply ashamed, sitting in the corner of a motorway service station bathroom, alone, with blood coming out of my mouth. Many people saw me. Nobody asked if I needed help. I didn't need help - I would have asked - but nobody cared. Nobody alerted the staff. At best, I was invisible. At worst, someone to glance at sideways with disgust.
I could have cried - from shame, from fear, from the sense of emptiness. Then, all at once, I understood that no, I was not going to die in this corner of a service station, and that, in fact, the bleeding had stopped a few minutes ago.
I waited a moment longer and stood up. I rinsed the shirt - cold water removes fresh blood, a friend had taught me - and decided I would change it as soon as I got back to the car. Or perhaps not - what if the blood started flowing again?
I rinsed my mouth once more and returned to the car. I saw the pool of my blood beside the door, stepped over it, and continued on my way, with the headache of someone who had come close to passing out.
After about ten kilometres, I felt the taste of blood again. I opened my mouth and saw it was coming from a tooth - that wisdom tooth. It had decided to push through on exactly that day, far from home, with such important plans ahead. I reassured myself and simply managed the situation. I understood that by breathing through my mouth and letting air in, it would stop. My dear old platelets - you just have to stop rinsing them away.
Calmer, I continued my journey to my destination, my hotel. I checked in and went to my room to have a long shower. I didn't cancel the rest of my plans, but adapted accordingly. I took off the shirt, looked at it carefully, and decided that if the blood didn't come out, I would dye it a dark colour once I got home. I checked that the others were in order - they were, and I always pack at least one spare. The shower was long and relaxing. I changed into the other shirt - the one I had packed not for work, but for the evening - and checked myself in the mirror one more time before going out.
That night I fell asleep very, very late. The room was exactly as I had left it - yet somehow emptier. And no, I wouldn't have wanted to be alone. I didn't feel calm. Yes, the wisdom tooth and the bleeding seemed to have stopped hours ago - but I was alone, in an anonymous, clean, sterile hotel room. And no, I wouldn't have wanted to die there either - I thought - though this time almost mocking myself for the excessive fear of the afternoon.
When I woke the next morning, I made an unpleasant discovery: the pillow and the sheets were heavily stained with blood. I felt guilty. White sheets, a wonderfully comfortable pillow - ruined. After a shower, I went down for breakfast, making sure to eat only soft things. I went back to the room and got ready for the next appointment, though worried about this new episode of blood loss.
I went down to reception to check out. The receptionist was different from the one the previous evening: an older man, professional, with a reassuring smile - but with wrinkles that showed the smile was simply a professional habit. I handed over the room key and explained what had happened, asking to pay for the extra cleaning or any damage my blood might have caused to their linen.
All at once, his smile became real. "You can't imagine what we find in the rooms", he murmured. And he asked me to wait. After about a minute, he came back with a small white bag. "These are two gum swabs. If it happens again, place one on the affected area. It will absorb the blood and help the wound close." He wouldn't let me pay for them. I thanked him warmly and said I hoped we'd meet again. "Oh, that won't happen. Today is my last day." As he said it, though, his smile shifted, and his face settled back into the shape of his wrinkles, until the greeting for the next guest.
"I've never understood what that thing is, but I suppose it's ready to be thrown away by now?" My wife knew about my adventure on that trip, but some details were and will remain mine alone.
"Nothing, just a swab to absorb blood in case of problems with a tooth. It's fifteen years old, but I want to keep it anyway."
She asked no more questions, and carried on looking for a plaster to cover my slight abrasion.
To my #SSH folks:
Is there some documented process of moving SSH from one machine to another transparently?
I get that I can copy the server-keys from $OLDSERVER to $NEWSERVER, but my understanding is that SSH will still notice the IP address (they connect via name, and DNS will point to the new IP address) changing and still raise alarms.
Short of also migrating the IP address too (not an option here since they're owned by different orgs), is there a least-painful route?
The current/painful option is just "sorry, suckas, IP changed, host-key & its fingerprints changed, and all your automated SFTP tasks break until you accept the new host key" which I'm trying to avoid ☺
Thanks for any recommendations!
Not to mention the exhaustion of water supplies caused by that infrastructure (that better may not exist)....
In case you missed it. Germany’s Social Democratic Party (SPD), Greens and The Left have decided to leave the US corporate billionaire owned social media network X and move to the US corporate venture capitalist owned social media network Bluesky. 🤷
https://brusselssignal.eu/2026/05/german-left-wing-parties-quit-x-in-co-ordinated-move/
Great news, you can now post a picture to https://subversive.pics interactively from your favorite internet browser!
You can achieve this by making a picture post inside the fediverse and tagging @subversive_pics (this works with snac, lemmy, mastodon, but not all of its forks, your mileage may vary)
If your picture makes it past the horp censors, your picture will appear on the subversive.pics website and the rss feed!
Incredible.
---
if you post something that you think should've passed the vibe and it doesn't get through within a reasonable time period, let me know. So i can update this list...
what it definitely works with:
- snac
- lemmy
- (some) mastodon
- akkoma
- gotosocial
- misskey (some?)
what it doesn't work with
:
- hometown
- glitch
A Fediverse experiment! an "Exquisite Corpse" collab with artist @prahou (left), and me (right). Fun fun!
Full original thread: https://fe.disroot.org/notice/B5c8qmENlmX1kjRXMm
As https://subversive.pics keeps expanding, I've written a little about it here:
"Sé que lunas se extinguen, renacen, viven, lloran.
Sé que dos cuerpos aman, dos almas se confunden"
Dos últimos versos de 'Triunfo del amor'
Un 26 de abril nace en Sevilla,
🖋️ Vicente Aleixandre (1898-1984)
Gran poeta español de la genial #GeneraciónDel27 y en general, de todo el siglo XX.
🥉 #PremioNobel de #Literatura en 1977
#Poesía #LiteraturaEspañola #EscritoresRecomendados #PoesíaEspañola
David Chisnall (*Now with 50% more sarcasm!*) » 🌐
@david_chisnall@infosec.exchange
Speaking as a former young man, I suspect any strategy that relies on stopping young men doing stupid things is doomed to failure.
Hey fellow #OpenBSD crowd
I am worried about @tedu - can't get a hold of him, last CVS commits were somewhere 2025, no Fedi activity, websites down, etc.
Just wanted to make sure he is okay, regardless of the reason for being inactive.
Update: While the search is still ongoing, somebody I trust just confirmed receiving an e-mail from tedu on Feb 26, 2026.
These days I've been quieter than usual, but spending a lot of time at the computer. There's a reason for that. I'm working on something that's giving me a lot of adrenaline, joy, and passion. Something I've had in mind for many years but never had the courage to pursue. Something that will probably never fully come to light, or maybe it will, but it won't be my light 😉
Anyway, I've relaxed and I can't seem to pull myself away from the computer. And no, it's not new software. It's not a BSD. It's not a videogame. It's something very, very different, and for all of this I have to thank a wonderful person I met on the fediverse, namely @angel
Tomorrow is Monday, and I can't wait to sit down in front of my computer.
It’s International Haiku Day apparently and so for today’s poetry offering, here are a few assorted haiku.
Unsurprisingly, it will be used to promote the same old internet-rockstars and to ignore the rest of us like other things like "Hacker News" or Lobsters or the other zillon of similar sites, but only time will tell.
How much gas are you importing from fascist governments right now?Spain imports crude oil, sorted by quantity, from the USA (14.9%), Brazil (13.8%), Mexico (13.2%), Nigeria (10.2%) and other minor percentages from Africa and the Americas. Grouped, 33.4% from North America (USA, Mexico and Canada), 29.6% from Africa, and 19.1% from Center and South America.
Which of these countries qualify as "fascist governments" is up to debate.
Source (in Spanish): https://www.elperiodico.com/es/economia/20260118/petroleo-espana-compra-importaciones-125754955
Some asshat out here calling themselves an "ethical AI vegan" because they only use corporate AI tools in "uwu smol" ways, and, I dunno, I guess they do a land acknowledgment before they boil a lake or whatever.
If anyone is an "AI vegan" it's me -- I don't use these tools at all, ever, because they are unethical. Telling me that they are delicious is not going to make them ethical.
Also, I will endlessly berate you about your use.
That's veganism, you're welcome.
https://jwz.org/b/yk6V
My grandfather, at a certain age, realized that he no longer recognized the people he met on the street. He forgot the roads. He decided to stop going out on his own, staying at home peacefully, and to entrust the main responsibilities to his son, "so as not to cause problems for himself or others", even though he was calm and certainly not aggressive.
My grandfather showed wisdom and intelligence.
Unfortunately, my grandfather never ran for President.
Photo by Othman Alghanmi on Unsplash
I was driving. Thinking. Listening to music. Resetting my mind. Left and right, haze, flatland and cultivated fields. I watched the road markings follow one another, all identical, in time with the prog-rock I was listening to. Hypnotic. They seemed to do it on purpose. I smiled. Suddenly, the mix changed, and one of Ivan Graziani's masterpieces began to play. And my smile faded.
When I was a teenager, I regarded him with suspicion. He had been born a few kilometres from me, many years earlier, had studied in my city, and yet he didn't appreciate it. Somehow, I disliked him. I liked his sounds, not his words - so hostile towards the places I held dear.
And yet his music made me fly. I would travel, remember. The few memories of a teenager, but already precious. His sea - my sea - I could have written those words myself. Or perhaps not, but the feeling is the same. Too complex for a teenager. I didn't think about it.
One evening I crossed paths with him, right in "our" city. I recognised him and gave him a nod. He returned it with a smile - eloquent, communicative. To an idiotic kid who still hadn't understood a thing. He, on the other hand, had already understood everything. A few years later, when I read about his death, it didn't touch me. He was young - but old enough and distant enough from me. Very distant. But he stayed forever young, and I, year after year, drew closer to him. In age, certainly. But I gradually understood that he had been right - oh, how right he had been - about so many other things. And his warm words became a comfort, breaking through the solitude, knowing I was not the only one to feel those specific emotions.
As he described our sea, the asphalt turned to sand and the road markings to waves. Yes, it is our sea he is singing about! I can hear it in the details. In the depth of the emotions. How much he missed it, just as I miss it now. We are like two seashells, he and I. We can be anywhere, but hold one to your ear and you will always hear the sound of the sea.
My smile returned, wider, calmer. If I could go back to that evening in the mid-nineties, I would thank him. But there is no need. He had already understood. Long before I could understand myself, long before life taught me to listen to my own voice.
Thank you, Ivan.
I flick the indicator. Time to park.
What American people think the political spectrum is:
Far right: Trump
Right: Bush
Center: Bloomberg
Left: Warren
Far left: Sanders
What it actually is:
Far right: Trump, Bush, Bloomberg
Right: Warren
Center: Sanders
Left/Far-left: anybody here gets killed by the CIA
Por la manchega llanuraQué grande. Gracias por traerlo a nuestra memoria.
se vuelve a ver la figura
de Don Quijote pasar.
The use of “hallucinate” is a stroke of true evil genius in the AI world.
In ANY other context we’d just call them errors & the fail rate would be crystal clear.
Instead, “hallucinate” implies genuine sentience & the *absence* of real error.
Aw, this software isn’t shit! Boo’s just dreaming!
CC: @reiddragon@fedi.catto.garden @coconutcannibal@misskey.fryer.net.au @jollyorc@social.5f9.de
I had already implemented multi-provider support, but after this morning’s issues I decided to change the behavior: we will continue using the excellent OpenMeteo as the primary provider, but in case of malfunction, the bot will automatically fetch data from MET Norway (https://www.met.no and still provide forecasts, citing the source.
In the coming days, I will also update the website to reflect these changes.
Jedná se o seznam českých smolwebovek, osobních blogů, deníčků atp. V posledních dnech zde ve fedi kolovaly výkřiky po něčem takovém - tak tady to je!
Přidali jsme to, o čem jsme věděli. Pokud máte vlastní web a chcete jej najít na tomto seznamu, dejte vědět!
boostni pls ❤️
novinky lze sledovat přes lab8 holuba: @holub@snac.lab8.cz ( a jeho rss https://snac.lab8.cz/holub.rss )
edit: uvedené weby mohou být v angličtině. přidali jsme pro to sloupek.
edit2: přidali jsme odkazovatelné ikonky (a odkaz), pokud chcete ze svých webů odkázat na tenhle seznam
<a href="//ring.lab8.cz"><img src="//ring.lab8.cz/ring_lab8.png"></a> # černá#lab8 #webring #česky
<a href="//ring.lab8.cz"><img src="//ring.lab8.cz/ring_lab8_inv.png"></a> # bílá
<a href="//ring.lab8.cz">ring.lab8.cz</a> # bez ikony
El 5 de abril de 1997, muere en Nueva York a los 70 años,
🖊️ Allen Ginsberg
Poeta importante del movimiento Beat.
Con intereses básicos del 'hippismo' de los 60:
#FilosofíaOriental #LiteraturaLibre #Antimilitarismo... Drogas y lucha por una libertad sexual, en algún caso, más que cuestionable 😉
#Poesía #LiteraturaEstadounidense
A bureaucrat, dressed in a dull grey suit, crossed the door, moved behind a forest of microphones and began talking.
"Starting today, and after last month sad happenings, the World Space Agency nominates cosmonaut Ilya Iskanderovich Takashvili as the third satellite of planet Earth. This is a homage and this is an eulogy. God bless him. Thank you very much for your attention."
"God? What is this joke?", said the young man.
"Is that all?", said the old man, looking up from what he was writing.
"So it seems", said the woman.
The young man turned back to listen, then looked at me and smiled.
"Oh, you are Miroslav Corbett from documentation, aren't you?"
"Yes, it's me. Do I...?"
"We shared a table at the last convention of the Cinematik Ausfahrt Biotech Aréopage."
That was probably true.
"Sorry, but can any of you tell me who this cosmonaut was?", said the old man in golden glasses.
The woman in military attire started talking: "He was a member of ISS Nova's repairing staff. His umbilical link was broken while repairing the right solar panel and..."
Suddenly, a deep, nasal voice from the back of the room silenced everyone.
"Sorry, I have a question."
All of us looked back. His large silhouette opaqued the back lights; his bright red skin, black scar tatoos and pointy horns contrasted wildly against the immaculate white tuxedo he was wearing.
He was one of the demons that crossed the Seam. Many of them were shoved back or killed, but a few of them, peaceful in nature, stayed here among us and adapted to our society as especial guests. Their world view and opinions, so different than those from the humanity, were always appreciated and taken into account.
He continued his mesmerizing, gutural speech.
"First, I want to give my condolences to Ilya Takashvili's family and friends; I'm sure he will be missed. His oval orbit will produce an eclipse with the Moon every three days, so he will hardly be forgotten. But I want to remark something you all, human beings, have trouble remembering."
The silence was total, awkward, frightening.
"What is the second satellite of planet Earth?", he finally said.
I tried to remember. While doing it, my brain entered something like a cloud, a mist, a fog of dread. Simply, I was lost. The rest of the people there (excluding the demon and the mechanical butlers, shiny grey eyes like pearls) found themselves in the same trance state.
The demon kept talking.
"The damage caused by the Mind Sickers from the Great Anomaly is still here. No one of you remember what the second satellite is. You may consider it while counting, you may recall old photos and tales and drawings, but every time you try to concentrate in the details, your brains crash and reboot."
Slowly, I recovered, but my stomach was still twirling.
The old man with the notebook was lying on the floor; the woman in combat clothes was helping him. Some people were crying. Others were bleeding from their ears and nostrils.
"I wish I could help", finished the demon, "but don't know how, yet."
Invoking that memory in the middle of a massive crowd was a despicable act; but demons, even while trying to help, behave this way.
Half an hour passed before the press room was finally empty.
II Certamen Cuentos del bosque oscuro 2025 - Ciencia ficción, ganador y finalista
Buenos días.
Llevo una temporada que no paro, hasta arriba de trabajo, pero pronto (espero) la cosa estará más relajada.
Entretanto, dadas las circunstancias de hoy, me apetece proponeros esta canción.
#FelizMiércoles.
The Waterboys – The Whole of the Moon
https://youtu.be/0eL-jEV_RKM?si=YyKn6lH68n61vy-k
What's up?
I am working on the next techno-mage issue, which will come out as a complete story sometime in April. I like to think this will result in a more enjoyable experience as opposed to rushing out parts and pages.
I am also continuously working on the comic series Creatures and my passion project Kitty Odysseus. Which you may or may not enjoy in the meanwhile.
They can be found, along with Japanese Jesus, on my (other) website or in lemmy's Funhole.
https://triapul.cz/creatures
https://triapul.cz/japanese_jesus
https://triapul.cz/kitty_odysseus
https://lemmy.sdf.org/c/funhole
I can't tell you what takes precedence, but it will all get made eventually.
If you enjoy what I make, or have some other use for it, please consider supporting my work financially.
https://analognowhere.com/support/
Thank you!
#analognowhere #unix_surrealism
#technomage #kitty_odysseus #japanese_jesus
I'm working on a YouTube mini series explaining the Fediverse!!
Who are the most knowledgeable people in this realm who I should definitely talk to?
What do you think is important to include in my series? I want to hear thoughts!!
El 29 de marzo de 1943, nace en Agria,
🎼 ✨️ Evángelos Odysséas Papathanassíou 'Vangelis'
Compositor griego fallecido en París en 2022
De sus bandas sonoras para el #Cine, dejo tres de las inolvidables:
🎶 🎞️ Carros de fuego ('Oscar' a la mejor #BSO 1981)
🎶 🎞️ Blade Runner (1982)
🎶 🎞️ 1492: La conquista del paraíso (1992)
#Películas #Música #HistoriaDelCine #MúsicaDeCine
Ayer 28 de marzo conmemoramos la muerte de Ambrose Gwinett Bierce. Para recordarle como merece os proponemos estos audios.
Primero, uno de sus relatos más célebres, parte de los Mitos de Cthulhu.
«Un habitante de Carcosa», de Ambrose Bierce
https://go.ivoox.com/rf/70689408
Es segundo lugar, otra de sus grandes historias, donde Bierce despliega todo su fino humor negro que le caracterizaba.
«Aceite de perro», de Ambrose Bierce
https://go.ivoox.com/rf/93233718
Y, finalmente, uno de sus cuentos menos conocidos, pero en el que también da muestras de su dominio del humor negro y la sátira.
Esperamos que os gusten.
«Una conflagración imperfecta», de Ambrose Bierce
https://go.ivoox.com/rf/164756914
I also took the chance to update #snac and, again, no surprises. Great piece of software.
"I grant you one wish," the magic fish said.
"To eat my mother's pancakes again, just like when I was a child."
"Are you sure?"
"You think it frivolous?"
"No. But to grant it I must send you back to the child you were, with no adult memories."
"Would my life change?"
"You ask that every time."
Keeping money from going to the Harry Potter franchise isn’t just a symbolic gesture. It’s about preventing real harm to real people.
https://www.advocate.com/news/jk-rowling-anti-trans-organization
Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s Herland (1915)
A female uptopia....
https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/herland/
"Herland" at PG:
¡Se abre el censo para poder participar en las diferentes fases de los Ignotus! Hasta el 5 de abril a las 23:59h. Toda la información en http://asociacionportico.com
@alexh thank you for mentioning MastoBlaster. It’s an mastodon app (with snac support) so works well on Mastodon instances
May you live in interesting times... https://no01.substack.com/p/march-19-21-god-is-a-comedian Three weeks into the Iran war, reality has passed through the looking glass, out the other side, and is now selling tickets to the gift shop. What follows is not satire. Satire requires exaggeration, and you cannot exaggerate something that is already operating at maximum absurdity. This is simply the news, and nothing but the news. Told straight, in a universe that has clearly stopped taking its medication.
Your reader, your couch, your rules.
Starting today, both my-notes.dragas.net and it-notes.dragas.net are changing the way they distribute content - on RSS and on the Fediverse alike.
No more excerpts. No more "read more" links. Full posts, delivered directly to you, wherever you choose to read them.
Here's why:
I don't run ads. I don't have paywalls. I don't sell attention, or measure success in page views. I never have, and I have no intention of starting. My blogs exist because I enjoy writing, and because
some of what I write might be useful - or simply enjoyable - to someone else.
That's the whole business model. There isn't one.
When that's the case, there's no reason to keep content behind a click.
Sending you a teaser and asking you to visit my site would only make sense if I needed you *on my site* - for an impression, for a conversion, for something. I don't. So why would I make you leave your reader, your client, your comfortable corner of the internet, just to come to mine?
What I want instead is simple: that you can read what I write the way you'd read a book on a cold winter evening, wrapped in a warm blanket. Privately.
Quietly. On your own terms, in your own space, without anything tracking your eyes or nudging you toward something else.
Your RSS reader is yours. Your Fediverse instance is yours. The content should be yours too.
If you're on the Fediverse, you can follow both accounts directly:
- my-notes → @mynotes
- it-notes → @itnotes
These are low-traffic accounts. If you don't want them to get lost in your timeline, feel free to hit the notification bell. I promise it won't make much noise.
So from now on, it will be.
Date: Sat, 21 Mar 2026 11:59:02 -0600
From: Theo de Raadt <deraadt@openbsd.org>
To: Renaud Allard <renaud@allard.it>
cc: tech@openbsd.org
Subject: Re: [patch] ext4fs rw
In-reply-to: <2c8df0cc-938e-4036-a628-4c7f69874e0a@allard.it>Renaud Allard <renaud@allard.it> wrote:
> Maybe it should be made clear on the website that OpenBSD will only
> allow new code made by a human. Because I feel there might be more
> requests like this and there is no point in repeating the discussion.Yes.