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The Cereal Poet

Upon this box, a sonnet bold and bright,   In breakfast mode, where crunch and munch collide,   A poet’s whim, a morning’s pure delight,   With flakes of joy, and milk as soft as tide.   “Ode to the oats!” the cheerful words proclaim,   “Each spoonful sings of sunshine, sweet and round,   In every bite, a symphony of grain,   A crunchy dance, where laughter can be found.”   Yet here I sit, with spoon in hand, bemused,   For poetry and breakfast seem at odds,   A rhyme for cereal? I’m quite confused,   But munching, I say ‘bollocks’ to the sods, I’ve written this crap about cereal, I hope the milk wasn’t bacterial. 

Danny Green Photography

“Danny is based in the UK and has been photographing the natural world for over thirty years. He travels to many parts of the world in search of images and has a passion for the colder climates. Danny’s work has been widely published around the world, and some of the leading picture libraries represent him. His work has been featured in some of the leading projects on wildlife photography, including Wild Wonders of Europe and 2020 Vision. ” 🔗 dannygreenphotography.com 🏷️ featuredphotographer

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Demaine’s Funeral Home has served Alexandria since the 1800s.

Bert and George and the BBQ

Bert didn’t like barbecues. He didn’t like mingling. He didn’t like paper plates. He didn’t like the way sausages always looked slightly accusatory. And he especially didn’t like Barbara from Accounts, who once spent forty-five minutes explaining her “journey with chutney.” But George had been promised sausages. And George was a dog of great moral standing. “If I must go,” Bert sighed, clipping on George’s lead, “you’d better be ready to drag me out when the hummus people start circling.” George nodded solemnly. They arrived at the company barbecue just after noon, where trestle tables groaned under the weight of undercooked ambition, and Mrs Pumpernickle stood like a blimp in floral linen. “I’m terribly sorry,” she sniffed, spotting George, “but dogs must be kept out front. Company policy. Hygiene. Allergies. Opinions.” Bert opened his mouth to argue, but George had already sat down with the resigned dignity of someone wrongly...

““Humans love to add, to expand, and to clarify. And in doing so, we create complexity… The irony is that we also have an innate attraction to simplicity.“” — Dan Cullum

Guilt Free Digital Media Pipline Automation

After a nearly twenty year break from using peer-to-peer technology (torrents) to download movies and TV shows, I have decided that it's more ethically pure in 2025 to once again fly the skull and crossbones than it is to put money in the hands of the fascist billionaires who monopolize the entertainment industry. To be clear, I'm not advocating doing this to software from independent developers. It's the collaborating big tech companies that don't deserve your money any more. Don't do this without a VPN. Just to show you how easy it is for your ISP or anyone who has your router's IP address to see what you download, you can use I Know What You Download With minimal effort, using mostly free or freemium software. you can cobble together a secure, integrated system capable of importing my watchlist from Trakt into a an app that will search torrent web...

Hacking Haikus

I'll be honest, I do like messing with proper poetic form. In some cases, I'll mangle it completely. And in others, I'll twist it in some small way. Haikus are a 17 syllable form that have more rules than I care to describe. So, I said sod the rules and have fun. Here's what happened... These legs are hairy. They graze my fine material I'm the posh trousers. I walked in the woods I got lost in all the trees I'm still in the woods. The ink shall dry up, I'll be capped forever more, Just a dead biro. I have chilled insides, Some say because I'm a fridge, But I am a ghost Boo. The tarmac glows warm I protect its fresh layers, Where's the other cones? More paper to stick, More bloody staples killed off, Use more paper clips. Cotton and alone, Yes, a sock, but I'm single,...

Sync This

I use Scrivener and DropBox.  Which is the same thing as saying: I like hitting myself in the head with a brick. Several times.  I have no idea why two software programs hate each other so much. Or, maybe they don’t, maybe they just hate me.  Here’s the thing… Scrivener is supposed to allow syncing with DropBox. Is it allegedly a ‘feature’. But when you try it, all you get is a big error saying the file isn’t valid. Yet, that file was created by Scrivener and saved BY SCRIVENER to DropBox.  What the absolute fudge is that about? I had to go through a procedure of my own invention.. 1. Boil the kettle 2. Move the project files to iCloud 3. Grab my phone  4. Make tea, eat a biscuit 5. Open said projects in the iOS Scrivener app 6. Allow it copy to DropBox 7. Eat another biscuit...

“"Wherever you are, is the place you need to be."” — Anon

It’s a long way down for little old arthritic legs…

The end of a tiring week of work. Pretty knackered but, as always, rewarded and fulfilled. The weather has been such a blessing and is forecast to continue for another week so am also grateful for that too. Glass of red wine anyone? 🍷

“”No matter how many years you sit doing zazen, you will never become anything special.”” — ‘Homeless’ Kodo Sawaki

Dog & dinner.

Good afternoon.

The Case Of The Slighted Sausage

CAST: NARRATOR (Grams) HENRY CRUN (Chip Shop Proprietor) MINNIE BANNISTER (His Assistant) ECCLES (Customer) FISH (A very posh fish) PIE (Cockney pie) SAUSAGE (Melodramatic sausage) ———————— [GRAMS: Chip shop bell rings. Frying noises.] NARRATOR: It is a foggy night in Lower Twiddle-on-the-Wold. A mysterious figure approaches the local chip emporium, run by the ever-vigilant Henry Crun and his assistant, Minnie Bannister. ECCLES: (Eagerly) Hello, I’d like a bag of chips, please! CRUN: A bag of chips? Just chips? No fish, pie, or sausage to keep them company? ECCLES: No, just chips. I’m on a strict potato diet. MINNIE: Ooooh, Henry, he’s one of those chip-only radicals! [GRAMS: Fryer sizzles. Suddenly, a posh voice pipes up.] FISH: (Indignant) Excuse me! Did I hear correctly? No fish? Not even a battered wink? ECCLES: Er, no thank you, Mr. Fish. FISH: (Offended) Well, I never! I’ve been swimming upstream for this? I could...

Putting On The Posh

Posh Pants I thought a sonnet needs a bit of work,  Something to make it feel a bit less stuffy,  But this thought doesn’t have much of a perk,  Unless I make it sound nice and fluffy,  So here’s a sonnet about some posh pants,  The ones you wear when going somewhere posh,  Not a place where there’s singing and rants,  A place where you have very pleasant nosh,  Oh, and I am talking about underpants,  Not those trousers with creases down the leg,  Not those you wear just for the lols and bantz,  The ones when washed, you hang out on a peg,  Aha! Posh pants, the ones that don’t cause a farce,  Or end up disappearing up your arse.  Posh Socks was getting ready and needed socks,   “Put on your good ones,” I heard my wife call,   So, I got a pair from my posh socks...

““You never truly need what you want. That is the main and thoroughgoing key to serenity.”” — Albert Ellis

Shane O'Malley

“Shane O'Malley, an Irish artist, uses painting to explore themes of perception and how our minds interpret patterns in the world around us. His artwork combines studio-based paintings with large-scale murals created in public spaces. Shane's vibrant use of colour stems from his background in graffiti. He has painted graffiti and murals across Ireland and Europe, exhibiting his artwork in Dublin and Galway.” 🔗 shaneomalleyart.com 🏷️ featuredartist

Contemplation runs through all of life.

Good morning.

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Followed this cute little Honda this afternoon.

Why Writing Normal-ish Now and Then Keeps the Creative Kettle Boiling

Let’s be honest, dear reader: if you spend all your days writing about purple elephants in bowler hats and penguins who recite Shakespeare, your brain will eventually start to resemble a bowl of alphabet soup—delightful, but impossible to alphabetise. Sometimes, you must write something normal-ish. Not entirely normal, mind you (that would be dangerous), but just normal-ish enough to keep the creative cogs from grinding to a halt and demanding a union meeting. You see, creativity is a bit like a kettle. If you keep it on the boil all the time, it will either whistle incessantly or explode, covering the kitchen in a fine mist of Earl Grey and regret. Writing normal-ish is like taking the kettle off the stove for a moment. It lets the steam settle, so when you put it back on, it’s ready to whistle a brand new tune—perhaps in the key of Q. I...

Underwear United

There was this pair of knackered socks,   They had seen better days,   And they were due for a detox,   Their smell made a big haze, So they went to the sock union,   To moan about their plight,   And their owners bunion,    They were going to fight, The union sent out big news,   Socks should be treated right,   They felt they had nothing to lose,   They partied all that night, Meanwhile, the underpants looked on,   Thinking it was a farce,   The bloody socks thing was a con,   They still got filled with arse, So they formed a union too,   The Union of The Pants,   They would join the socks through and through,   We might have to wear plants.

• 🐛 Fixed an issue that would cause a rate limit to be imposed when returning Kudos counts on a page with many kudos buttons.

Writers Sock

[Scene: A desk. A writer. Too much caffeine. Not enough logic.] ⸻ SCENE: A WRITER’S ROOM.  The wall glares. The writer glares back. The tension is beige. ANDY: (staring at wall, muttering)  Nothing’s landing. Ideas circling like a flock of sea bulls… LAPTOP: Stuck, are we? SFX: BASS GUITAR RIFF. COFFEE MUG VIBRATES. COFFEE MUG: (aggressively mellow)  Yeah, I know what you mean… NARRATOR (optional): The mug is wearing a Cannibal Corpse T-shirt and tuning a bass guitar. ANDY: I am a bit. SFX:  GENTLE SPOON WHITTLING. NARRATOR: The laptop is carving wood with a teaspoon. SFX: KETTLE WHISTLES. MIC CHECK. KETTLE: Testing, one-two. One-twoooo… SFX:  LOUD THUD. DICTIONARY SITS UP. DICTIONARY: (exasperated)  For bloody hell’s sake! There’s all this mad stuff going on around you, and you can’t think of something to write? SFX: PERPLONK. FOLLOWED BY FERLUD. ANDY:  (firmly)  Right. SFX:  KEYBOARD CLACK. ANDY:  (Typing)   Lost For...

Writing How You Speak

Hello dear reader. Welcome to my shed. It’s not a shed in the real sense. But I like to imagine it is. Although, it will likely become a pub a little bit later in this post. Pull up a chair, grab a biscuit, and help yourself to a mug of tea. Let’s embark on a journey into the world of words — though I should warn you, the signposts are mostly guesses and the path occasionally turns into a pond. Now then. What qualifies me to offer writing advice? Absolutely nothing. I’m winging it like a bloke juggling dynamite next to a naked flame. But then again, aren’t we all? Writing’s a peculiar business. We make it up as we go. I’ve written a book, a handful of feature articles, some tutorials, and at least 109 blog posts (probably more, but my calculator packed it in and ran away to...

During meditation this evening there was a noticing that all sights, sounds, sensations and thoughts were inextricably interwoven into the fabric of awareness equally and evenly. Open space made of everything.

Good afternoon.

Fostering AI Adoption and Literacy: Lessons for Organisations and Individuals

AI is everywhere- or so it seems. Over the past two years, the topic has dominated conference agendas, whitepapers, and webinars across the scholarly and publishing industries. Yet, as Stephanie Lovegrove Hansen points out in her recent Scholarly Kitchen guest post, adopting AI tools within organisations is far from universal. Some companies outright ban AI, while others struggle to bridge a growing gap in AI literacy between leadership and staff. The AI Literacy DivideRecent McKinsey research reveals a striking 31% gap between leaders and employees in the belief that their company has a high level of AI literacy.  This divide is not just academic: more than half of hiring managers now say they wouldn't hire someone without basic AI skills, and three times more employees are using generative AI for a third or more of their work than their leaders imagine.  In short, AI literacy is quickly moving from "nice...

George Speaks, and All is Not Lost

Arnold Figgins, an unremarkable writer with remarkable procrastination skills, sat hunched over his desk, staring at the blank page before him. His latest literary endeavor, _The Underwhelming Adventures of a Man Who Once Met a Parrot_, was not going well. In fact, it was going so poorly that even the parrot had filed for a restraining order. Just as he was about to accept literary defeat and take up professional toast-burning instead, his cocker spaniel, George, sighed loudly from the armchair, flicking his ears in annoyance. “Oh, for heaven’s sake just write something interesting,” he muttered, his voice dripping with canine sarcasm. Arnold blinked. “Did you just… talk?” “Of course I did,” George replied, rolling his eyes. “What do you think I am, a decorative cushion? Now, about that parrot…” Arnold stared, mouth agape. George stared back, his expression a mix of boredom and mild disdain. Then, as though nothing...

I don’t know anything about tech but this made me smile Justfuckingusehtml

There seems to be two distinct kinds of so-called ‘spiritual’ activity one can engage in. On the one hand there is a search and a seeking for external answers or The Answer – the ultimate healing Truth or as Zen teacher Barry Magid would say ‘curative fantasies.’ And on the other hand there is an ongoing rigorous curiosity into the nature of one’s own mind. Intense open-ended scrutiny and honest investigation of reality as we experience it for ourselves requiring no external beliefs, wisdom, teachings or guides. Ironically, as the Buddha is thought to have said, ‘be a light unto yourself.’  Or as Robert Saltzman says ‘you can only find your own mind, no one else’s.’ Paradoxically it is the latter activity that actually reveals what the former seeks.

Why choose Ruby on Rails - reliability and efficiency

Why choose #Ruby on #Rails? I read this article from Reinteractive: https://reinteractive.com/articles/rails-8-modern-web-framework “But let’s be honest, sometimes you just want a framework that’s reliable, efficient, and doesn’t leave you wrestling with configuration files until 3 AM” I also liked this part:  “Rails 8 empowers developers to build features rapidly with its convention-over-configuration approach and a vast library of gems.”

The Day the Brain Took Off Its Tie

[Scene: A cluttered writing desk. A man. A mug. A murmuring mind.] SCENE: ANDY’S STUDY.  A mug of tea steams beside a blinking cursor. Andy sits, sighing loudly into his keyboard. ANDY: (trying to focus)  Right. Proper writing. Commas. Sensible metaphors. Let’s do this. SFX:  BRAIN COUGHS POLITELY. BRAIN:  Excuse me — but I’ve had quite enough of your trousers. ANDY:  They’re metaphorical trousers. BRAIN:  Even worse. SFX:  FABRIC UNZIPPING. A NECKTIE FLIES ACROSS THE ROOM. BRAIN:  I am no longer your obedient word monkey!  From now on I shall say things like writering and photographying, and you can’t stop me! ANDY:  (blinking)  Go on, then. SFX:  DISTANT GALLOPING. THE WHOOSH OF FLYING ADVERBS. NARRATOR (optional): And off the brain went, galloping into the horizon, flinging adverbs like confetti. ⸻ 🎵 CLOSING LIMERICK (read with fanfare):   There once was a writer called Andy,   Who did keep his metaphors...

The Ballad Of Connie's Garden Crisis

Connie was dying for a piss,   But the vicar was there,   It was a day of summer bliss,   And garden-based prayer. But Connie feared a deadly leak,   She searched for a bush,   The vicar continued to speak,   His wife called out, “Hush.” The vicar strolled off down the path,   And Connie saw her chance,   She slipped away, suppressing wrath,   While most folk stayed in trance. She found a bush and dropped with grace,   Let blessed waters flow,   Then tugged her pants back into place—   Her cheeks began to glow. She’d clearly helped to feed the plants,   But fate would soon attack:   “Why Connie, now I’ve seen your pants,”   Said Vicar, at her back. She froze upon the daffodil,   Her blush a crimson map—   And worse still, through the holy chill…   Connie needed...

This month’s cult cinema club is showing Pedro Almodovar’s Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown tonight. I haven’t seen it since it first came out in 1988 so am really looking forward to it!

Not being bullied

At school I was a prime target for bullies. To avoid the inevitable I somehow managed to develop a way of evading them. I became invisible. I made myself disappear. I effectively suppressed myself out of existence in their eyes. While I successfully avoided bullying confrontations I instead successfully inculcated a behaviour pattern that would fundamentally shape the rest of my life. Although naturally introverted I added an extra developmental layer of passivity, quietude and avoidance. Instead of being present I retreat. Instead of standing up I remain seated. Instead of speaking out I stay silent. I am grateful not to have suffered the direct consequences of bullying like so many of my peers but the bullies still managed to cast a different kind of shadow.

Dupont Circle Station

This was taken 10 years ago during a business trip to Washington, DC. It was my first visit, so I spent my evenings exploring the city. Snapped this shot on my way to dinner in Dupont Circle. 🏷️ throwbackthursday

The Day I Tried To Write Seriously (And Failed Spectacularly)

Or: How I Accidentally Wrote a Haiku About Cheese It started with good intentions. Which is how most of my disasters begin. I told myself: “Today, I shall write something serious. Literary. Proper.” I made tea (a serious mug). I arranged my pens in size order. I even opened a fresh notebook, which gave a little whimper as I cracked the spine. It knew. The idea was simple: write a proper piece. Something you might find in a journal with French words on the cover. Possibly one of those that comes with a free tote bag and a lingering sense of inadequacy. The first line I wrote was: The day broke, brittle and pale, like a memory of bread. “Hmm,” I thought. “Serious.” I wrote another: Shadows moved across the wall like regret at a discount store. By line three I had accidentally written a murder mystery involving a haunted...

Good morning.

Restore Logic Pro X files corrupted by Google Drive

If you’ve ever stored Logic Pro X project files (.logicx) in Google Drive, you may have gone back to them after a while only to discover that Drive has turned them into unreadable .pkgf files. The good news is that it’s not permanent and you’re about to learn how to undo the damage. The bad news is I can't guarantee this will work for you, only that it's worked for me on multiple occasions. How to recover Logic .pkgf files from Google Drive1. Copy the file name, without the .pkgf extension (we’ll need it shortly). 2. Right-click and compress the .pkgf file. 3. Double-click to uncompress the resulting .zip file. Instead of turning back into the .pkgf file you just compressed, it’ll become an extension-less file with an arbitrary 6-digit file name. 4. Re-name the resulting file by pasting the original file name from your clipboard. 5. Add the .logicx...

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Suburban Drive-In Dry Cleaners on S Washington.