A narcoleptic yokel on software and culture.
http://extratone.com/ http://bilge.world http://asphaltapostle.tumblr.com/ https://davidblue.bandcamp.com/ https://bandcamp.com/davidblue http://vk.com/davidblue https://500px.com/NeoYokel https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/User:Extratone https://facebook.com/asphaltapostle https://flickr.com/davidblue https://imgur.com/user/NeoYokel https://getpocket.com/@extratone https://github.com/neoyokel https://instagram.com/asphaltapostle https://linkedin.com/in/cyberyokel https://medium.com/@NeoYokel https://open.spotify.com/user/12186620218 https://open.audio/@DavidBlue https://snapchat.com/add/mommilitia https://twitter.com/NeoYokel https://vimeo.com/extratone https://vine.co/asphaltapostle https://www.imdb.com/name/extratone https://www.last.fm/user/Crazyhooligin https://www.twitch.tv/Dieselgoth https://www.yelp.com/user_details?userid=seYjUMcixeGvpOehekSOXg https://youtube.com/extratone https://peertube.live/accounts/extratone/videos https://pixelfed.social/Davidblue https://pleroma.tilde.zone/b https://tilde.zone/@b https://writing.exchange/@b https://diasp.org/public/davidblue http://davidblue@diasp.org/ http://fedigram.social/davidblue http://mastodon.social/@DavidBlue http://mastodon.technology/@DavidBlue http://radical.town/@DavidBlue http://toot.cafe/@DavidBlue http://www.extratone.com/tech/mastodon/ https://baptiste.gelez.xyz/@/davidblue/ https://dolphin.town/@e_4030 https://expshift.com/@b https://fosstodon.org/@DavidBlue https://github.com/Plume-org/Plume https://linuxrocks.online/@blue https://mastd.racing/@blue
Yes, I am still managing to waste my time digging up and re-arranging some very old content, but I just couldn't resist. Somehow, it didn't occur to me until yesterday evening that I could sort through the original video files of my old vines fairly easily in fucking Google Photos and blast them through iMovie for iOS into a full montage relatively easily.
Some of these are very cringey...
Yes, I'd love to finally get around to my ultimate romantic editorialization on that most dearly departed social network, but things are way too jumbled right now, obviously.
You fight your superficiality, your shallowness, so as to try to come at people without unreal expectations, without an overload of bias or hope or arrogance, as untanklike as you can be, sans cannon and machine guns and steel plating half a foot thick; you come at them unmenacingly on your own ten toes instead of tearing up the turf with your caterpillar treads, take them on with an open mind, as equals, man to man, as we used to say, and yet you never fail to get them wrong. You might as well have the brain of a tank. You get them wrong before you meet them, while you're anticipating meeting them; you get them wrong while you're with them; and then you go home to tell somebody else about the meeting and you get them all wrong again. Since the same generally goes for them with you, the whole thing is really a dazzling illusion empty of all perception, an astonishing farce of misperception. And yet what are we to do about this terribly significant business of other people, which gets bled of the significance we think it has and takes on instead a significance that is ludicrous, so illequipped are we all to envision one another's interior workings and invisible aims? Is everyone to go off and lock the door and sit secluded like the lonely writers do, in a soundproof cell, summoning people out of words and then proposing that these word people are closer to the real thing than the real people that we mangle with our ignorance every day? The fact remains that getting people right is not what living is all about anyway. It's getting them wrong that is living, getting them wrong and wrong and wrong and then, on careful reconsideration, getting them wrong again. That's how we know we're alive: we're wrong. Maybe the best thing would be to forget being right or wrong about people and just go along for the ride. But if you can do that—well, lucky you.
relentless, the country keeps doors and walls reverberate all but rest in summer’s heat
I remember the dawn and dusk – the open palette, gradiented above opposite a front overtaking me, on the 4030, tilling terraces ’round the North 180
growing here is not a war with Earth, but a chronological board game, won by the punctual and patient
I am neither of these, but I am fond of a good emergency
and it all plays out for me; the torrent released in Missouri haste big drops turn to steam on the labored muffler too much to do; getting it over with, God cries in heaves, quickly, around here
I truly, deeply love my host CMS/service and do not pay enough for it. Can you say the same? Use my invite link and give Write.as/WriteFreely a try. It literally saved my life.
A somewhat-outdated version of this site's theme is listed among others in Writeas' official themes list. The full, up-to-date CSS and JS can be found below and on in this GitHub repository, which I created in November, 2020 as an experiment in using Git to track editorial changes. (That means you can see current in-progress drafts!)
Body Text: Adobe Caslon Pro
Nav/Headers/Other: Proxima Nova & Variations
The Psalms’ GitHub Repository also hosts the technical documentation for its Write.as theme. Download the latest “release,” here and/or view the raw CSS here.
View Tinylytics' basic page view analysis for The Psalms' last 30 days.
If you happen to be a user of agiletortoise’s infamous Drafts app on iOS and/or MacOS, I have published a quite-uncanny theme on the Drafts Theme Directory mimicking the reading experience of this blog.
Users of Simon B. Støvring's Runestone for iOS/iPadOS may enjoy this light theme based on The Psalms' CSS.
The custom style I use to preview Psalms content in Marked 2 can be downloaded via the GitHub Gist embedded below.