Nodes and Arrows

What good are poets.
Do they burn in hell?
Sir, I think not.
Oh, swell.

Let’s not complicate this further by saying meaningful things.

From a dead poem
I arose

Some were castles in the air, 
Some otherwise.
It’ll be a different view,
From your side.

Everything in this world is natural.

The effect does the cause does the effect.

that the reams
of books and oceans and sirens and screams
and everything
is just lost.
In the reams
and the books,
oceans, sirens and screams.

communication, and it’s consequent, organization

Reevaluate the value of consolidation

Everything has to be more complicated before it can be simple.

सागर की एक लहर का
सागर के बिना अर्थ नहीं है |


सुबह की किरणें कब दोपहर की धूप बन गई, पता ही नहीं चला ।

“Major modes are called major because there are also minor modes.”

—   Emacs C-h t

Lament for a lost metaphor

Multiple overlapping untiled windows on a desktop are like open books, rough notes and coffee cups strewn on a single desk just large enough that your hands can reach all the corners without you having to move. Cluttered and cozy; multiple gnomes of possibly interrelated information in your visual field, hollering for your brain to bind them in a thread of aha.