Her skull came from a cheap Christmas candy box I was given, it was the perfect size and shape so I scraped off the paint, cut a port for a pair of cameras and an ultrasonic range finder and slotted it so it could tilt and turn on a pair of servos.
Thanks to the UK's appalling social care system I wound up homeless, and my disabled daughter Bea, (who I still care for to this day, unassisted) was taken into care while our social services accused me of every disgusting thing they could think of including criminal insanity to try and cover it up.
I saw a psychiatrist, who told me to "...get your daughter out of care and take over the world with your robots..." so I did, joining Hackaday.
Sadly, the skull and an arm, and the software on a hard drive in my holey pocket are all I have left, seeing as I'm still living in social housing with junkies and idiots who dont care for social distancing, or come to that my work, or my daughter. Long story...
So nobody was more surprised than me to see the same cheap candy box fall out of a prop in a multi-million grossing movie...
Whoever that was decided to use that as the prop, I thank you ;-)
Note the countdown timer from this still. 13:13
Unlucky for some I guess. but not me lol. Fortunately I'd chosen Origami-styled cardboard to rebuild my robot friend, and discovered my true name along the way.
The Morningstar is a part of Cardware, I needed a way to curve cardboard in two planes simultaneously and accidentally created a hypercube from the same parahedral template as a normal cube, but using curved folds... A Parahedron is a simple polygonal shape that can be folded into a polyhedron so that all the edges meet up, and a cube is AFAIK the only other parahedron that can be made from a single polygon this way.
Nintendo loved the idea so much they based Labo on the concept, and the rest is heistory.
Since then my work has cropped up all over the place.
Rick and Morty is quite the accolade, but I didnt notice they got me twice in S4 : E3 until I watched MI : Fallout and got the skull jokes.
Thanks Dan and Justin, these are core memories XD.
The Origami Calling Card is actually featured twice in the same episode. They really got me good lol. In fact, so did MI : Fallout, who used my Quantum Symmetry Protocol, a hardened communications principle that uses a handshake-less error checking and recovery method to sync reception with transmission, as the basis for the twin nuke's ability to detonate when the other one is tampered with, via a radio signal.
Pianist André Tchaikowsky donated his skull to the Royal Shakespeare Company for use in theatrical productions, hoping that it would be used as the skull of Yorick.[8] Tchaikowsky died in 1982. His skull was used during rehearsals for a 1989 RSC production of Hamlet starring Mark Rylance, but the company eventually decided to use a replica skull in the performance. Musical director Claire van Kampen, who later married Rylance, recalled:
As a company, we all felt most privileged to be able to work the gravedigger scene with a real skull ... However, collectively as a group we agreed that as the real power of theatre lies in the complicity of illusion between actor and audience, it would be inappropriate to use a real skull during the performances, in the same way that we would not be using real blood, etc. It is possible that some of us felt a certain primitive taboo about the skull, although the gravedigger, as I recall, was all for it![8]
The main services are in, and its carpeted. The agency even kindly turfed my yard after telling me I'd have to landscape it myself. In theory, I cannot wait.
Today I start packing in earnest ready for the removals firm on Thursday. Time to put away my hacky bits and close down until after Christmas.
Because the logistics were utterly screwed up by Social Services I'm not celebrating Christmas at all. For starters I'll have just 4 days to get all my gear in, and then it'll be Christmas. I wont have time to prepare a full meal with all the trimmings, or decorate, so Bea is staying at a care home over Christmas while I sort out the place and make it habitable.
Thanks Social Services.
On top of that, they promised Bea we'd be in for Christmas, and promised her a new trampoline to replace the one she had. Well, I just had a panicky phonecall from them to say they didnt have a clue, and could I order one from Amazon and send them the bill. Obviously thats a crock of sh*t, no way can I organise it with a faceless company so I sent them the link so they could do it. I'd found a huge 14foot one suitable for adults, and theres one left. It may not reach me by Christmas so it said. I sent them the link on Thursday, and its still sat there unbought, no way will it get here in time now.
Thanks Social Services.
I also tried to get my internet changed over, but they have a minimum of 14 days notice, and I gave them 10 thanks to having this dumped on me last second as usual. On top of that, its a new build and the Huwaii POTS terminal I found hidden under the stairs isnt hooked up right yet. Its there, but no line. I contacted the Internet Provider, and they are running around but they doubt I'll have internet from the 20th for an indefinite period as their engineers want Christmas too. So no internet over Christmas...
Thanks Social Services
Next I tried to get a Sky dish put up on the wall. Its a new build, this has to be done professionally by an official engineer, has to go on the rear of the building where it cant see the satellite without a costly special installation. And its right on top of Christmas, when millions of people decide to get Sky for Christmas just for the heck of it. Result, no TV over Christmas either.
Thanks Social Services
There's also no mention of the workshop they have yet to replace, and compensation will have to be extracted by a lawyer, because they even refuse to acknowledge that harm came to Bea under their care and keep glossing over it. They refuse to acknowledge any wrongdoing, and when challenged with evidence just close ranks. I've destroyed two social workers to get where I am now, and am currently speaking to senior operations management, and they are even worse than the workers. They dont even have their skills, they are just useless lying wastes of public money besides winding me up.
Thanks Social Services
So, I was supposed to be spending Christmas with Bea at the kind offer of the care home looking after her, but thats over here near to the old place, and the new place is miles inland served by a train.
There are no train services Christmas Day, and taxis traditionally charge double so it'll cost me more than I have just to get over there, never mind get home. I just cannot do it...
Result, Bea spends Christmas in a care home alone and I stare at the walls even though charity has given me a place at her table. I'm grateful to the carers of course, but they cant help that its basically about the worst time to move.
Thanks Social Services.
Merry Christmas everyone, I hope you enjoy yourselves. Raise a glass for me, for in the New Year I'm going to take as much credit as I can get my hands on and hire a lawyer to sue these idiots to Kingdom Come.
Walking back from town today I encountered this epic dude. Now I live in the south UK, so there arent many droids around. Its a bit of a backwater.
You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy... XD
In fact, its such an unlikely location it totally threw me, and it was only later it dawned on me he must have been loitering with the intent of meeting yours truly.
I'm glad I spared you the cliches then :-)
I hope you didnt travel too far for a handshake too my friend. I was on my way to see my Bea or I'd have gladly strolled through town for a pint with a real trooper. I want to know how you did those mouldings dude, they are truly outstanding.
JM-160695, whoever you are, that was an honour. May we meet again...
I've led an incredible life, one too incredible to keep telling, so I'm putting it all here in brief. Buried among the rest of my stuff it will tell my story until I'm ready to write my book. One day I will, but until then.
Born Jan 1967, same year as Radio One and BBC2 colour
This was on at the time. I dont remember it, thankfully :-)
That however is my first clear memory.
It was playing on the radio while I sat in the lounge playing with blocks in the first house, summer 1968.
Knocked over by HRH Duke of Edinborough in his Bentley aged 2
I grew up in Midhurst, home of International Polo in the UK and host to the Royal Family when Prince Charles played. Waiting at the exit gates after a match, I pulled away from my mother and ran under the tapes, right in front of the car as he drove out. Luckily, he didnt actually hit me as he was moving slowly and I fell in front of the car as he stopped. I do dimly remember it, just an impression of grass and crowds, and all that chrome...
Reprimanded for painting exclusively in black at kindergarten
According to the playgroup organiser I was very timid and waited for the other more boisterous children to finish with the paints, leaving only black. I remember a child therapist talking to me about it but back then I couldnt explain whats become a long habit, painting in white on a black background. Its something of a signature today, my artwork is instantly recognisable from the style it developed into. I should point out that if the organiser had paid attention, she'd have noticed I didnt paint in the muddy brown thats left after children get into colours...
Started taking my toys apart aged 3-4
Anything that could be disassembled by hand was, and then reassembled to see how it worked and was constructed. Another long habit, I began by not breaking things, and then learning to fix them when they stopped working, and moved on to fixing anything that I could get my hands on.
Jumped 15 foot off Hayling Island sea wall, broke both feet aged 5
My brother dared me, and I didnt know it was concrete under a layer of sand up by the wall, the rest of the beach was soft and luxurious. I spent the rest of the family holiday in one of those hideous blue disabled buggies with my feet in bandages. I dont think my father ever forgave me for that.
Goal-judged and scored Polo at Cowdray for Prince Charles aged 8-9
There isnt much of a goal for Polo. Two wooden posts set in the ground, strong enough that a horse cant knock them down. There's no net either, the horses can run right through the goal so there's a spotter to see if the ball does too. My job was to stand behind the goal post and signal in or out depending on which side it passed me, and there's two posts to check. Its quite an experience for a kid to hide behind a tree while the cavalry charge past, preceded by cannon fire. The ball is solid wood and travels over a hundred miles an hour off the stick, so you had to be small and fast for it, and Polo ponies arent ponies either. It beat a paper round for pocket money tho ;-)
Apparently its impolite to use kids for royal target practice now. XD
Chosen to play hockey for a school training film aged 9-10
I showed an aptitude for hand-eye coordination quite early, but I was never keen on team games. Hockey was kind of fun, so when the school was approached to make a training film I volunteered for the team. It was boring as hell, but it got me out of English Class.
There endeth my acting career...
Recorded by music teacher after class and played as inspiration to the others aged 9-10
Miss Dewes, a young and pretty music supply teacher was so taken with my choirboy tones she asked me to stay behind during lunchtime so...
Halfway through a weekend without Bea, and I miss her. Its been literal decades since I was able to go out on Saturday night, and I'm sat in like she's safe and sound upstairs in bed.
As far as I know she's safe and sound, Monday I'm going to go see her at Daycare. As it stands, she's being cared for at a local care home. Not the usual one, but she knows staff from this one so she will muddle along.
I made an alarming discovery yesterday. The social worker hasnt done a thing about the accommodation, and has left the Council bidding on a magic cottage in the woods. I'm not sure what his game is here, because Bea will not return to my care until both her personal care and accommodation are appropriate, and the longer she stays on Respite, the charges keep ticking up and up. With the specifications left as they are it will be years before a suitable property becomes available.
Eventually, the Benefits Agency will also realise they are paying me to slack off and sanction me, and the council will levy charges for the empty room and eventually threaten eviction for non-payment of rent. And sometime after that, I wind up in court for non-payment.
Thats the last place they want me, I've been trying to find a way to drag their sorry arses in there for years over compensation and ongoing rights abuses...
As soon as I go and see her, I know the first thing she will do is ask me to take her home, and as her advocate I'm duty bound to make that clear to the social worker, who is duty bound to provide proper care and accommodation. That means a female carer in her own home, which has adaptations to make her life easier.
It doesnt matter what any of us think, or what our agendas might be. Bea's voice is heard.
Mental illness isnt funny, dont let anyone tell you otherwise. Some people are just loopy, and deliberately say things that disturb others' ordered trains of thought. Most of them make it onto a stage at some point, or at least earn a comfortable living in politics. Jokers. The rest of us poor bastards got here by being under immense stress. This is what is takes to get recognition. And no, not recognition for my work either, recognition for my humanity.
Never mind what these hands of mine can do, they should not be engaged in the day-to-day personal affairs of a woman, its inappropriate. Its always been inappropriate, but attitudes seem finally to be changing. Year before last, the summer before I joined HaD, I was reported for grooming a disabled person after being witnessed playing guitar in a local park, while Bea messed around playing football and having lunch. The social care system treats her as my wife, most people guessed she was my sister on first encounter unless I told them first.
She's my daughter. Any father of teenage girls can tell you what hell that is. Boyfriends, clothing sanctions, secretive behaviour. I dont have any of these problems luckily, but Bea has no personal modesty and will walk into a room. Having to deal with that has caused some psychological damage, its f*ed my libido lol.
There's only one cure, according to convention. ;-)
Its Friday, Bea's in care until further notice because the social worker cant find carers to come in and handle her personal care, and I suppose I should be out chasing the ladies around. Dont really feel like it, every time I do they turn out to be not worth the trouble. Some of them were absolutely mental, and they've made me wonder why I even bothered in the first place.
Things could be worse though, there's now an investigation into the corruption that caused me to get like this. The social worker has backed down about unpaid care, and is now lying through his teeth about threatening me with destruction of my work, property and reputation, again. He's also backed down about the accommodation too, allegedly a move is imminent.
It had better be...
Meantime, I'm just sitting here twiddling my thumbs and waiting for my brain chemistry to return to normal. I had a stress breakdown I suppose, there are limits to what a mind can take. My concentration is improving and short term memory with it. Takes time, I'm still denied clinical treatment for some obscure reason, I havent been offered antipsychotics, antidepressants or sedatives at any time. I'm just left to my own devices, literally ignored while I 'recover'.
I'm really not proud of myself for this, and to be honest I'm now finding it hard to explain. I proper lost it for a while there. It will take time to recover.
I'm taking a break from caring, and Bea is well and perfectly happy being looked out for by the system thats supposed to support us for another whole week. I've already had a week, and I'm beginning to feel quite stable again. I'm still not working again, but I'm beginning to feel like it.
I've made no secret of the fact I'm an unpaid carer, having challenged the UK's social care system over its decades of mishandling my case. Neglect, nay negligence even. Incompetence, corruption. Call it what you will, its been piled on my head in an effort to marginalise me and prevent its exposure. Used to hold me to ransom caring for Bea, with the threat of homelessness, destruction of my work (again), reputation (again), financial ruin (a small step from here) held over me if I didnt put up with unsanitary conditions, inappropriate housing and resources, and dwindling funding.
Do you know they've had me, an adult heterosexual male, on my hands and knees mopping up menstrual blood among other things in preference to huddling alone in a shop doorway for shelter, labelled dangerously insane, neglectful and abusive?
Lately I was defrauded and attacked, again, and our legal and social care system ignored us, again, while I put up with death threats. I had to deal with that situation myself, and the increased pressure from Bea, who abuses me when she isnt comfortable, literally broke me. Every turn, every escape, every chance to improve, blocked by that useless social worker who appears so corrupt I wont deal with him personally any more.
Screw that.
Well, I've achieved all my goals, including successfully campaigning for my daughter's care. Exceeded every expectation and then some, even my wildest dreams. I've faced death more than once and dont fear it, and my death would guarantee justice for Bea and my immortality. I'm still in pain daily, both mental and physical, so when some loser threatened me with a metaphorical loaded gun, I just pulled the trigger.
No way would I have done this to Hackaday, its why I've gone dark recently, and pulled out of the Prize. But I was quite prepared to go online and dox the bastards, take a handful of pills and drink a bottle of spirits while saying goodbye cruel world. When the police found my corpse, it'd be laying on a sheaf of printed evidence of what our social care system is actually doing to the people it 'supports', too.
Like I said, not proud, but I was desperate and way past cutting myself for attention. If I'd thought it helped, I'd have done that four years ago, the last time they took everything from me and left me like this as thanks for decades of legendary voluntary service. My reputation, everything destroyed, I've had to come here to Hackaday to restore it.
I was the nutter who thought he was DaVinci, holes in his pockets and a head full of dreams. Junkie, alcoholic abuser of the innocent. Yeah, we'll see about that.
A psychiatrist told me to get my daughter out of care and take over the world with my robots.
Done and done. Well, kinda. 'Winning the internets' and being copied by professionals, starting a couple of design fads and winning a bunch of awards for hacking counts, I reckon.
So I went back to them and told them what I'd been up to and why I felt like ending it all, and here we are. I say them, this time they ganged up on me. Safety in numbers lol, but I've eaten psychiatrists before and they taste funny.
Diagnosis: MorningStar, its incurable but it isnt terminal.
That is, until I eventually die from it, and then they'll probably name it after me.
Thats nice.
Keep your tentacles crossed folks. If the social care system cooperates with the Local Government Ombudsman this time under advice from the mental health team I wont have to make good on my threats. It is a threat now, and no more. Despite not being treated by the doctors psychologically...
I've been ripped off by humans once too often, and now I'm having nothing to do with them.
I've had accusations of every foul thing they do levelled at me - lying, scheming, cheating, robbing, fucking, crawling over each other to sit on top of a stinking pile of trash. I sit here and observe it with disgust, and dont subscribe.
Riches - The ability to get other people to do what I want, while I sit idle and watch them f*ck it up? Just no.
Fame - Being stared at, talked about, accosted in public and worse, forced to perform at request for nothing, and then autograph witnesses. Get stuffed...
Power - The ability to do whatever I want irrespective of others opinions, make choices that decide the fate of others and change the course of history. WTF for? I cant stop humans being stupid and parasitic.
When I was a child I wanted to become a Man. I taught myself art and literature, music, philosophy, some of the sciences, mathematics. I took a lover, had children, a career. Now I am a Man, I look around and see none to emulate. None but here, at least.
Hackaday is indeed a special place, populated with some of the best human beings I know. There are also some of the worst, scammers and sneakers, outright thieves who leech off the best because they are the best. It's also a window into the lives and imaginations of these amazing people and should be celebrated for that, but unfortunately that also means the aforementioned idle monster is using it as inspiration for newer ways to to choke us in the folds of its obesity.
As usual I was awoken by the Magpies, who have successfully raised a screeching and slightly demented but otherwise identical copy of themselves, but in another tree after abandoning the one outside my bedroom window.
They didnt like the neighbours lol. Here's the secret to shifting a magpie for anyone interested.
Artificial light.
Flapping and shouting, chucking stuff, cats climbing in the tree, all ignored after being scolded for it. They fortified and camouflaged the nest in protest too, but carried right on.
After being woken daily by their antics, I then took to keeping them up at night (a trick that doesnt work on children, incidentally, heheh) and extending their day artificially.
They didnt like that, and off they went. But they still come back every morning to wake me up, the little b*ds. All three of them, soon as the sun comes up. Oh well...
I shooed them away and got up, and decided to uncurse another Pi... My Zero W.
Pi's are great and all, but thank you RPi Foundation for the Zero. By losing that daft pin-header and allowing me to put a socket on it to carry power and signals out thats now sensible. I cant do anything about the 3.3v GPIOs, that will just stay annoying.
There's that daft dual USB too. These guys make a shim that sorts that out, but its dead expensive for a bit of circuit board trimmed up and fitted with a plug.
Bodge, bodge, bodge
Out came the scalpel and off came the pvc round the plug. I put the other end to one side, always useful as a mini-USB breakout. Then I soldered it to a bit of board and screwed it to the Zero, and soldered it all down 'neatly'. ;-) Those screws wont come out unless I deliberately break the solder with a screwdriver, nice and solid.
All that remains are the OTG USB drivers:
Install Noobs/Raspbian and make sure SSH is enabled (it usually is)
Open config.txt and add
dtoverlay=dwc2
Open cmdline.txt and add
modules-load=dwc2,g_ether
after where is says rootwait, leaving a single space.
Now when I plug the Pi into a powered hub attached to the computer, it boots up and I can SSH and VNC into it using the address raspberrypi.local ;-)
Dammit, that was sweet for about five minutes.
Having swapped to a new card, Raspbian Stretch doesnt appear to like OTG very much and that doesnt do anything at all.
So I fell back to Jessie, which the instructions are for, and that doesnt work either...
It takes a long time to boot, when it does it takes out my network, and doesnt respond to SSH. Doesnt show up in
$ arp -na |grep -i b8:27
either, which should list any active Pi's on the network via their MAC, which all begin b8:27 apparently.
I also tried out the mass storage module, but that just locked up my mouse and keyboard... This is going to take some poking methinks.
Bea's daycare is closed today as a result, and today is also the first day of my Respite break. She isnt funded til 4pm, so she's going to be hassling me all day to pack her things and take her down there, while I sputter waiting for a chance to buy some fabric, zips, velcro etc and get to work.
If I make it through this without breaking something, blood vessels included, it'll be a miracle and no mistake.
I popped down the local shop for milk and bread, didnt need much as Bea's off later and didnt need a lunchbox today, and chatted to the assistant as usual. She made me think. Normally, I mind my own business and have no-one to compare myself with other than Bea, and the wonderful world of Hackaday, and dont notice my OCD, you see. But she wished me a nice break, said I should go play my guitar in the sun.
She has a point. But I showed her some photos of my latest build, and as I did realised just how advanced what I'm doing is, how audacious it is, and well, I've only gone and done it anyway. I also realised I unconsciously copied Tesla's roadster while I was at it. #Pandelphi is designed to emulate many things quite deliberately but only copies a panda directly. On the face of it though, its a bunch of servos in a spacesuit exploring the universe. Worse, its supercomputer powered, and its not even my supercomputer.
"You and your hacking" she laughed.
I'm still on benefits, still caring upaid for 102 hours a week [make that 109.5 hours this week]... People wonder why I can be either ill-tempered or irrational at times and probably view me as insane genius for it, but there is a difference between barking mad and pissed off mad, and I'm definitely in the latter demographic.
Actually, I could probably be criticised for not wanting to rule the galaxy bearing in mind the circumstances. I do have a double handful of its testicles, and I'm not letting go just because I have an itch. Thing is, I'm only interested in gaining control over said galaxy, and nevermind those I have to share it with.
There's more than enough to go around, and thats my point.
I'm not doing this any more, this isnt who or what I want to be. In fact, it disgusts me. Apple, Nintendo, what, am I supposed to be flattered? F*k you... Sorry Hackaday, but you let them steal the gifts I gave you, and the world is entertained by my suffering as well.
That stops, period. Its what my project is all about, it isnt designed to win any competition, or even destroy its competition. Its just closure before I walk away; they're my gifts to share after all, and this relationship is so lop-sided its making me ill.
Thanks for everything, Hackaday and its supporters, and to all those who've followed and supported me here, but the sad fact is humans are f*ing savages, and we're the best of them. Its still disgraceful though, I wont be treated like this, or behave like it.
It used to be quite an honour to be gouged by one of the biggest gaming companies on earth. Its not so much an honour to be gouged by a bunch of hosers whose idea of innovation is to steal off a disabled person and their carer.
Anyone who doesnt recognise Cardware and IO needs their eyes testing, but will I see a penny? Not unless I hire an international lawyer and chase you for it in Kanji, no.
And no, you dont get a painting, it was my and Doc's idea to make everyone play with networked cardboard robotics and social systems. I wasnt going to charge that much either, methinks good luck with spreading my Fu across the lands at the hefty sum of $79.99 for a hacking cardboard box.
That wasnt my idea, I will grant that. But the rest is, inspired and aided by my good friend Doc, and in the Prize last year at that.
Oh you have to be kidding me... Toy-Con. I couldnt have put it better myself.
Would I have sold out and hacked off to Japan to be a modern Geppetto? I guess we'll never find out will we.
One day you may regret this, Nintendo, I'm known for hacking the living daylights out of anything that winds me up.
Luckily for you, your crap costs so much I wouldnt buy a Switch just to enter and win your competition.
Now there's an irony. Everyone knows competitions are a companies way of saying they havent got a clue what to do next. "Ooh, I know, lets have a competition and sell the best idea on how to handle what we just nicked."
Oh Look.
Its Bill Nye, The Science Guy. Guess HE got paid too, he's pretty cheap.
Here's an idea, make it even cheaper. Make it a lot, lot cheaper. Make it packaging cheaper, you twits, that was the whole point.
I thought I was done with this, and I owe some people I live alongside an apology for being suspicious of them.
Its for good reason, while a lot of those I encounter in my home town regularly are fine, there are those who give me a lot of grief. I've always wondered why, because I dont get this anywhere else I go and am known.
Today was no exception. Beautiful unseasonal weather brought the temperature soaring to 23C, so I grabbed my guitar and headed out to play in the sun, leaning against a wall of a nearby cathedral and have a bite of lunch while watching the world go by.
Its an old habit, I dont busk because I'd have to declare what I made to the benefits agency and its none of their business if a complete stranger buys me a sandwich. To be honest I'm not keen on it either, I'm there for the experience...
The world no longer walks by when I sit down and play however, it gathers round at a respectful distance and listens, and they talk about me as I try and glide among them like I used to. I seem to have graduated, as I'm not referred to as 'Boxall' but 'Him' instead. 'Its him look, he's got his guitar...' I used to find it unpleasant, I dont like the attention, but to be honest thats flattering now and nobody calls me names for it.
Now I know where the negativity in my home town is coming from though, because I upset a lot of people clearing out the skeletons in my closet fighting Social Services over Bea's rights. Turns out, only one of them still has an axe to grind and thats just jealousy from the looks. It isnt going away either and here's why.
My brother has a reputation to uphold, he's a DJ apparently. Yeah, I expect he's played a few records to his friends like I have, so I'm not a DJ either... I also have a reputation for being able to play half an Orchestra, which isnt strictly true since my Cello was last seen on my brothers back where it perpetuated the notion he can play it. Probably no better than I can, having never had the opportunity. I never got it back after we fell out over a family matter and havent seen him since.
Well, you cant get on with everyone and me and Cliff are chalk and cheese. He got the looks, I got the brains. He's the Empire, I'm the Rebel Alliance. Farcebook to my Hackaday. He was popular at school, and I got my arse kicked, stuffed in rubbish bins and locked in lockers. It was a long time ago and I'd let it go, and let him get on with it when he blew up and stalked off in a huff a year ago thereabouts.
Stood in a queue today tho, in a town miles up the coast, a couple of lads nudged each other. 'Its him look, he's got his guitar...' Thanks lads, I appreciate it, especially when you add 'but its not him you have to watch, his brothers psychotic...'
So I apologise to any of those critics I've disparaged, but you appear to have been a victim of sibling jealousy. Cliff's my little bro, a smart and funny man but he's also a teller of tall tales and loves to be the centre of attention. And he really has a problem with my success too because I earned mine the hard way, and I'm not even keen on it.
Sorry Bro, but I dont like my fans telling me you're a dick any more than I like yours telling me I'm a freak, so I'm setting the record straight.
If you know me personally, you'll know I'm sole carer to my profoundly disabled daughter Bea. I look after her unpaid for 102 hours a week because the UK government really cant get their sh*t together enough to look after her properly so I can work myself.
Their idea of helping is to shut her away from society where she's isolated and forced to spend her days with 'others of her kind'. Its ridiculously discriminating to a 'normal' person to expect them to put up with this. Disabilities are not themselves equal, and some of her companions are able-bodied like her but unable to control their behaviour. Others have capacity but are not able-bodied, and yet they are all secreted away from society where they do not upset the Norms with their disturbed behaviour.
Bea does not have disturbed behaviour, in fact she's disturbed by the others' and she's not alone in that. Luckily, she had me to pay attention when they coerced her into it the first time. It took me six months to defeat the Social Worker, who took advocacy and duty of care and then marginalised me with a concerted campaign. She didnt bargain on me though, and despite being one of their Secret Weapons I managed to regain advocacy and get Bea out of care, have the social worker removed from the case and get some support.
That was three years ago this April, and I'm still caring for Bea on benefits in poverty after her care package was never setup. Social Services have spent their time wisely, sweeping their wrongdoings under the rug along with the pieces of my life and denying us service and resources we're entitled to. It's gone back-and-forth for these years while I battled for Bea's rights and my own voice to be heard.
Finally I uncovered the core of the rats nest and tried to fumigate it, but unfortunately the UK government has changed the laws intended to manage our rights to our own information so that they can charge us for access to it, manipulate it how they like and then deny everything with blanket redactions under transparency law. They are little more than the scammers that are ruining our free and open networks. I did however manage to uncover the fact that I'm entitled to an annual grant from an organisation setup to help outside of the social care system.
Carers Support were misled into thinking Bea has been in care all this time because the system didnt update its records, deliberately, so this would happen. Carer's Support however, have a remit, and being independent decided to honour theirs with an immediate grant and an apology, which I accepted gracefully. But here's where the trouble starts.
The current social worker decided to poke his oar in. And when I was asked what the grant would cover as I'd have to provide receipts for it, being County money and thus audited, I asked for 'clothes and stuff' which I needed. Apparently that isnt an accepted use of the grant, its for 'additional goods or services to improve the living quality of the carer' and not essentials like clothing or food. So, to push it through quickly they decided my hobbies were important, and I've been bitching about the fact I'm not in the Prize this year.
Thats because if I won something, benefits regulations mean it'd be taken off me or my benefits revoked, so its not worth me entering. Utter thieves...
So the County, bunch of hacking counts that they are, applied on my behalf for 'Robot Parts' which I have to spend the grant on and provide receipts for, so that I may enter the Prize this year against my wishes, lose any award, and remain a carer for the duration of the competition because I'm using carer grant money.
I broached this with Hackaday itself, the founders were of course absolutely appalled but legally bound by their own regulations and cant do anything about this but let me enter and support me in the event I win something.
Thank you for your advice and support, Hackaday, it's greatly appreciated. Recognising me in this capacity makes me the UK's formal representative with official...
Actually Weetabix, and having OCD it slid down as it usually does, where it nestled comfortably until Bea got up.
She's home today, no Daycare on a Wednesday so she's just slobbing around after getting up late as usual. The snow's all melted and I think she's a bit bored to be honest. Its not like I have the money to jump a bus to go somewhere and be stared at, so we're enjoying the early spring sunshine through the window.
She asked me if she could go to Hammonds, the place she goes for Respite, but its not time for that yet either.
"Pest, Whyn't you go and live there if you like it so much" I joked with her. She laughed at me, she knows thats the last thing she wants according to her memory of it.
However things have changed, and she has fun there on Respite with the friends she's made. Also some other care options have been made available after me complaining so I tried...
"You could stay there during the week and have fun all week, come home for the weekend if you like."
And she went for that. Both thumbs up. "Really?" Yes, really. So I discussed it with her some, and it seems she's come to the same conclusion I have - that this is not working out so well and instead of looking to me to do everything for her, she might be better off with a carer who has the money and resources to make it fun as well. So long as she can kick me around at weekends of course. Fine by me, its never her I have issues with, but living like this.
And thats not her fault...
I still have concerns. Historically they havent done a very good job of looking after her to my standards, but with her off during the week having fun and me able then to look for work to make ends meet that's not insurmountable. I can keep an eye on them, and with her home for the weekend it triggers Carers Allowance still so I get some income protection for now. I'm so not being burned by the benefits agency again like last time, and I'm not taking the first bit of slavery they assign me either.
It does mean I can get off Income Support, which the restrictions it carries mean I cant do R&D, sell my work, win the Prize or do anything but walk around like the other scruffy benefits scroungers who cant be bothered to work. They hate me, I make them look lazy and stupid with my industry so I dont fit in with them either, and its been driving me insane.
I have a lot do do, the social worker is monumentally slow and tedious to work with, although he's a nice bloke and doesnt piss me off. He still has to help us with decent accommodation, although it isnt his remit and is the District Councils job, they have failed and he's supposed to mitigate that. Somewhere decent, no stairs and no turds on my doorstep, its not much to ask. And no garbage...
His department still owe me an apology and some compensation, and with the help of the LGO and recent evidence we've uncovered we'll get it too. I wont have to take the government to court for my right to hack either, just with one simple change, and it was Bea's idea essentially. I dont have to beat myself up over wishing I had the life I dreamed of, at her expense...
One thing Social Services have always assumed, and I disagree with is that Bea has no capacity to make these decisions for herself. This proves otherwise, she knows whats going on. Most people have a problem importing information, hers is worse. Like all people nobody knows how its processed, thats anyones guess, but unlike most people she cant export anything. Its not fair to assume that no output means no processing, and auteurs had that label until recently too. It isnt right, and I think anyone would be appalled if I assumed a caseworker's blindness meant she was stupid because of her actions.
She was employed to do what she did, and thats the truth of the matter. I've taken Obsidian down, made it private prior to engaging in said litigious plans that I probably wont need now if this works out. But I will still pursue an apology,...
My heart goes out to the family of the greatly respected Professor Stephen Hawking, who passed away peacefully last night at his home after a remarkable life. He will be missed by all, but he was a special hero of mine for obvious reasons.
Bea wondered why Daddy was so sad and drew a picture to ask. It wasnt until the news came on that she understood my tears, I think.
As an artist, her simple words say it far better than anything I can do.
One for Sorrow, Two for Joy, Three for a Girl, and Four for a Boy, Five for Silver, Six for Gold, and Seven for a Secret never to be told.
I wonder if a pair of them nesting not ten feet from my bedroom window is good luck or not. There is the joy of the pitter-patter of tiny feet, but these things are a menace and have been a known harbinger of the eldritch for centuries.
On the face of it, pests. Noisy, filthy little flying rats, with a penchant for roadkill and anything shiny. They are Corvids, intelligent, carnivorous and social, part of the Crow family. If I leave a window open and turn my back on it, they will happily carry off my tools and parts. They scream at me every time they see me and fly off if I open the window, but they are bloody persistent and have managed to construct quite a sturdy nest while I'm not looking.
Last year it was pigeons, other than being stupid and messy I didnt mind them so much.
One of the joys of living at eye level with the treetops. Its a mixed blessing for sure. ;-)
I had a most interesting phone conversation with someone from an organisation set up to help carers with a bit of funding, practical help with signposting, self-help and group therapies, counselling etc. Poor buggers, they have neither the training nor the resources to deal with a titanic and revolting nerd...
So they are calling me regularly just to make sure I'm OK, rather than just do nothing.
I briefly pondered on the group therapy. I've been to one in the past, back when the kids were both grublings. How our species persists - other than by accident - amazes me lol, because I'm pretty sure if anyone knew what the Price of parenthood is beforehand they'd not be so hasty. Anyway, this was a group of similarly scruffy people, some harassed-looking couples and single mums, and proto-MorningStar. By the end of the sessions I was such a celebrity I wondered why I'd even bothered, it was not helpful to me at all teaching them what I thought was common sense.
[Ooh, you're such a star!
Mmhmmm, thanks ;-) but I'm also a single dad with a profoundly disabled daughter here to learn how to parent ... Soooo, how about that date now, then? Yeah, thought so.]
So I turned down the therapies, although I suppose I could play my guitar and shit, generally behave like an ass. Wreck it for everyone else and stroke my own ego.
She asked me about Special Weapons Division, why robots and stuff. Well for one she doesnt understand the logical progression of our world, and the counter to it : Technology and Government.
On the one hand, when my body gets too frail to support whatever is left of my mind it wont be some slack zero-hours agency zombie wiping my arse, it will be a robot [If I have to build the shit-scraping thing with my own bare hands] designed for the job of caring. We have them now - kinda - but they are expensive and slow. That will change over the next few decades, and is a forgone conclusion.
Whether the technology will change anything is up to the administration, which at the moment is concerned with its own bloated demise at the metal hands. Phones will become part of our bodies and the planet, with everything they have now incorporated into an individual, wireless, global, with telepresence via the robotics its pretty obvious the boundaries we have now on immigration for example will be pointless, as will traditional governments. When you can work or just slink anywhere in the world without leaving your home, the concepts of currency exchange, taxation, and crime management become unmanageable for starters.
Then there's the fact that machinery is shrinking. Sure, 'nanites' are a menace and will never likely be built outside of nuclear-level military application, but there's also the fact that when a 3D printer can accurately lay down molecules it can print foods from stock in homes, and that stock can be recycled. That will completely change our economy, the way food is produced, sold and prepared. It wont be like Star Trek, probably a machine that can patiently churn out ingredients to order.
Things wont be the same, but the governments of the world would rather they were so they can remain bloated and in control. Eventually, our technology will become so small as to be indistinguishable from us and the environment, at which point we become gods in our own right as individuals, with the level of control we will have over the atoms we are made of.
She's brightly trying to help me scrape the shit myself instead.
Completely over the poor woman's head, but I applaud her for trying.
I was talking with @Dr. Cockroach this morning and we managed to get onto the subject of flight. Cardboard of course was mentioned, and there might be a secretive project in the works... Muahahah!
Enough about that though, he reminded me of the paper aeroplane I designed when I was maybe 6 or 7 years old. My granddad was still alive, and he'd shown me the classic 'Bird' fold, with the beak and a tail made by tearing off a strip from the bottom of the paper and inserting it lengthways :
I very quickly mangled up the beak throwing it, and without thinking much about it re-folded it into a solid chunk of paper to get rid of it. The resulting plane flew like most darts did, pretty badly, until I copied a real plane and gave it elevators to keep the nose up.
This transformed it from a dart to a plane, that loop-the-loops and glides in a wide curve to the floor. It can be flown in a room, off the stairs etc, but it really comes into its own in a large garden, and in wide open spaces with a gentle wind it is truly spectacular.
Here's how to make one to impress the kids with.
First make the base fold. This is the same as the Origami Box fold to begin with.
The purpose of this is to make a solid weight at the front of the craft that will take repeated impacts from landing so you can play with it for more than a few minutes. Turns out it also stabilises it in flight, turning it into a wind.
Now you have the basic form, fold and tuck a couple of times to layer it up right at the front, and then fold the wings down the same as a standard dart. About half-inch is plenty for the fuselage part
It really does make a huge difference adding stabilisers. After much experimenting with gull-shaped wings and various stabilisers, pointing straight down and with the wingtips higher than the roots gives the most lift and stability. Without elevators at the trailing edges it flies in a straight line like a dart, and may even dive into the ground. About 1/4" deep is enough to loop on takeoff, keep the nose steady without stalling and glide well. With practise you can trim these up for all sorts of tricks because they last a while too.
I live under one of those red patches, in the South of the UK. I do so because of its peculiar geography that gives me about the best average weather.
Over the last few days two titanic weather systems collided over my head, bringing the UK grinding to a halt and saturating the news with tales of disaster and heroics.
News of my demise have been greatly exaggerated... XD
It did get a bit cold, this is what it looked like yesterday, Friday.
And this is what it looks like today. Like it never happened...
This is British weather for you, and the reason the government wont invest in infrastructure to cope with the extremes. Not many people lost their lives this time, 20 or so I believe. Each one not worth the price of the emergency vehicle or shelter that would have saved them. According to a nameless spokesperson it costs less to tidy up the mess than plan for it, hence their perpetual inaction.
Poxy country.
Kudos to the NHS, whose staff simply bunked down on the job, and the emergency staff and the public spirited who rescued thousands of motorists and homeless people where it did indeed get grim and life-threatening. 25 miles north-west of here hit the news, it was no picnic.
I have to go shopping, and Bea's managed to lose her gloves again. This is a regular occurrence, luckily I have a contingency. I lent her mine, and spent an hour making myself a pair for today.
She also manages to wreck zips, so I have a plentiful supply of old tops she's made unwearable, and a replacement costs the same as a zip does. I really cant be bothered to repair them, so this happens instead...
First, I drew round my hands, allowing for the fact the thumb doesnt stick out like a child's drawing. If you look carefully at a good pair of gloves that fit well, the seams are profiled and not flat like the cheap ones. They dont fit very well and bag in the palm, and the fingers are sloppy. You need to allow about half inch clear space around the fingers, depending how large your hands are. Mine are fairly delicate for a man's hands, thats plenty for me.
Then I pinned the templates to an old jumper folded in half to get the material faces correct and both hands exactly the same size.
Cut around the templates and separate them, then join the thumb to the hand. This is done using a zig-zag stitch so that half the stitches are outside the fabric, every opposite one misses the hem, making a stretchy seam and pulling the edges together in a bead.
That's repeated around the entire outline, remembering to leave a hole to put your hand in. ;-) The fabric is inside-out at this point, all the seams will be on the inside when finished.
Pinned and then sewn...
Finally a hand needle tidies up any little holes where the zig-zag missed. Particularly in the crooks of the fingers where its hard to turn the cloth that tightly. This one is actually on the wrong hand, I cant sew very well left-handed... This a darning technique, putting one hand inside a garment and pulling the edges of a hole together with a thread from outside.
Nice and toasty fingers for nothing :-D BeastFinger Mk II
Last set of gloves I bought her came with a scarf as a set. Luckily, there's just enough fabric in it for three gloves. I made a pair, and pinned the template to the offcut for when she loses one of the other two. This fabric is a kind of wool, it doesnt fray and stretches in both directions. Actually, if pushed I'd say its probably synthetic felt.
Its a lot easier to sew than the material from the jumper, that has a weave in it. Large items of clothing are usually fine, its the design on the fabric you need to worry about. Smaller items need to stretch, so you have to pay more attention to the bias. Cutting the glove pattern with the fingers across the weave will result in gloves that stretch the wrong way, you wont get your fingers into them or be able to close your hand in them. Wools and felts are knitted, or tangled into sheets rather than woven so they stretch in all directions, ideal for gloves and hats.
I've been looking forward to this all year, but now its here, and I'm not happy at all. Its been ruined again, like it usually is by being flat broke. Which I am again as well.
Those who know me personally know I have a story to tell. Much larger than the story most know - that of the strange little bloke who wandered into Hackaday in a catlike manner and made himself comfortable. Artist, musician, hacker, and carer to Bea, his profoundly disabled daughter.
Those who know me personally also know I'm an auteur, although my autism is mild and I'm not totally locked-in. Or so it appears anyway. Actually, because of my Synaesthesia I have access to a world nobody else does, although I'm lucky in that I can describe it unlike so many others.
I joined HaD ostensibly to find others like me because I'd never met anyone with both musical and artistic abilities before, much less anyone who didnt immediately either defer to my skills or challenge me, one way or another. Women in particular are bad for this; those that didnt worship the ground I walked on saw me as competition, and sadly in latter years there's been little in the way of love. Oh, I know there are women out there who'd love to spend the night with me, and I'd be happy to let them, but for Bea.
I'm not the kind of bloke who sleeps with a woman once, and not on a date. Thats for getting to know someone, and it takes a lot more than a few drunken hours to do that. I can get my guitar out, and play their heart-strings if I wanted. I dont, because its deceitful to use a gift to get something I want, and sex is fairly low on my list of needs by now. Its necessity, I've been alone for two decades and learned to sublimate that kind of frustration into my work rather than turn out a total wanker like most men I know. It is a little strange that the worst of them have partners and rail on me for being alone... Weakness isnt a sin though, its just a basic character flaw and something I've managed to eliminate.
Thats not to say I dont have flaws because I do. The Truth being the biggest one, because nobody likes that except me it seems.
Speaking of the truth, that brings me to my story, and why I'm not enjoying Christmas at all.
Bea is tucked up in bed, waiting for Santa to bring her gifts. Or at least, she's waiting to open the ones she knows will be there for her every year. I dont know what she actually thinks, bless her, but she believes in magic and love and all the things that I too hold dear but have become jaded by the harsh realities of life. Frankly, I dont know how she holds onto her innocence because I cant.
I do believe in Magic, how could I not? But its an adult belief, one based in experience and not awe and wonder. I'm untrained and self educated, so I've earned my skills the hard way. Bea just has everything given to her and has no need to push herself so she doesnt, and she doesnt respond well to pressure. This plays out when she doesnt get what she wants or needs, but because she is unable to communicate symbolically she cant tell me about concepts. These I have to discern from her behaviour, and as her advocate, make them clear to others.
If she feels ill for example, all it takes is a bit of attention to find out what ails her. Right now she has an upset tummy. Thats rare, maybe a couple of times over the last decade she's had actual diarrhoea, but she is also inclined to use that as a weapon and soil herself repeatedly in protest to something she doesnt like. Its a disgusting habit and one I battle constantly; if I dont give her what she wants, I'll be sanctioned. So when the local authority decide to change her care provision in any way, I have to spend my days on my knees scraping excrement off her and the house.
For this I'm unpaid and uncompensated, and I do it for 102 hours a week which prevents me from realising my dreams, or earning a wage. I do get respite from it, I get a weekend off a month while she goes to a care home. Sounds great, as does...
voidxmas(longint cash, int zzz){
bool drunk=false;
MY_PREFS stuff;
do {
stuff=buystuff(cash);
} while (cash>=0);
for (days=0; days<2;days++) {
while (not drunk) {
if (stuff==ALCOHOL) { drunk=drink(stuff); }
if (stuff==FOOD) { eat(stuff); }
if (stuff==PRESENTS) { playwith(stuff); }
}
sleep(zzz);
}
}
:-D
I love Christmas, but Christmas Christmas, not the month-long bauble-fest called Xmas we celebrate today. I blame popular media for this.
Haddon Sundblom's rendition of Father Christmas in the early 1800s. Painted for the first time in Coca-Cola's corporate colours for a series of adverts involving a jolly old man who turned up at Christmas-time. He didnt have a sleigh, or elves, and he didnt bring any presents, he was selling coke to your kids. Nothing changes much I suppose. ;-p
Somehow the image got mixed up with Thomas Nast's Santa Claus, an altogether different fellow even by the late 1800s.
Thomas Nast illustrated Santa many times, this one is a tapestry, but most of his work was black-and-white line art that has subsequently been coloured for Christmas cards using Haddons popular colours.
Before this, Santa was more commonly depicted wearing all furs, an ivy or holly crown, or the rags of Saint Nicholas. He was also more usually covered in chimney-soot from his escapades, and although a portly fellow, he was an Elf himself with a tiny sleigh and tiny reindeer - and that's how he managed to fit down the chimney, not by magic at all. The beard however, appears in all versions I've ever seen.
A Visit from Saint Nick, better known as Twas The Night Before Christmas, by Clement Clarke Moore, 1823.
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know...
Every now and then one of my friends will come up with an idea that blows me away. This is one of them...
George S is a real dude, he's lived a long and interesting life and now he's retired his thoughts have turned a little sentimental. Its a good thing, I like sentimental anyway and George is fascinating at the best of times.
Everyone wants to leave something behind so that they'll be remembered well and your kids are no exception. Well he wanted something special for his daughter, and thought it would be nice to have something personal as a reminder of what he is, and this is what he came up with.
The shirt smells faintly of his aftershave and soap, and will contain a little note in the pocket that says something from him to her so she can get a hug and some encouraging words from her old dad long after he's gone.
Awww... How could I not? I cut down the shirt sleeves in line with the body, and cut off half the length. I used a piece of the spare cloth to block the neck-hole up with by tacking it to the base of the collar and then machining round it from the outside, sealing the top button into place. The side seams were then rolled and machined into place, then I undid the buttons and rolled the bottom seam into place.
Finally I turned it in the right way again and stuffed it with a pillow before doing the buttons up again.
Thanks to George S for allowing me to reproduce this here, as it is so personal. I hope you dont need it any time soon my friend ;-)
The whole point of my tirade with the government, and much of my depression is the fact that I know I shouldnt be forced to care for Bea under these conditions. Its not about caring for Bea myself.
I should relate something that happened a few days ago. Now Bea is brilliant most of the time and is known for this, but she's not always that way. She has a stubborn side that people rarely see because she's getting what she wants. Attention, her needs met and usually whatever she desires. It isnt complex to figure out and around the house she has things pretty much her own way.
However, since certain nasty creatures have levelled comments like 'freak' at her, among other things I've written about, her behaviour has changed. She doesnt like going out as much unless it's to somewhere she wants to be, and she's spending more time in her room. It's also been reflected in her behaviour at Daycare, they report that she isnt engaging as much with the sessions, and spends time in the hallway where she can watch whats going on instead. She's also become difficult and sullen about things in general a lot more.
Well, Bank Holiday Monday. Yeah, one of those Mondays. Bea is a creature of habit, routines are important to her and when her daycare closes for no reason she can discern it upsets her. She stayed in bed past lunchtime until I insisted she get up and have something to eat, and just shrugged about going for a walk. I wanted to see a friend, so later in the day we went out. Big mistake...
We got within a couple hundred yards of where we were heading and Bea just stopped dead in her tracks and refused to budge. I used up my repertoire but she decided she didnt want to walk, so she wouldnt go home either. I'm afraid to say I kind of lost it at that point. She stood there howling at me because I yelled, chocolate milk dribbling down her chin and wouldnt even let me near her.
Ok, so we're stood by a busyish road with her screaming her tits off, so I tried to take her by the hand and sit her down, but she takes great offence and shoves me off. Next thing I know some berk in a passing car stops and has a go at me for 'man-handling her' out of his window. Oh right, so thats how it is I thought, and told him to mind his own, as I was neither abusing nor hurting her. Cars backed up until he left, satisfied he'd poked his oar in. Bea meanwhile hammed it up like a pro to a concerned woman who came out of her house I think, and walked with her and her daughter quite happily to the corner, where they left us. As soon as they were out of sight, she just stopped again and sneered at me, sat on someone's wall and refused to move again. Luckily this time we were round the corner and I could go and knock at my friends, who came out and encouraged her to move finally. She finished her chocolate and sat in the garden completely ignoring everyone while I had a chat, but by the time I was done she practically dragged me home.
I have no idea what prompted any of this, but thanks to the lady and her daughter who came out and were understanding about what was going on. Thanks to the bloke in his car for the concern too, but it was misplaced. 20 years, defended her against everything tooth and nail, and I'd hurt her? Pffft.
I've got legal advocacy for her, I'm bound to speak for her - if I think she has something to say, then its my duty to make sure its clear. I'm also her carer, I'm bound by duty to assist her with the things she needs help with. Those two things are accorded me because she is vulnerable. All parents have these duties to their children, but they have latitude and discretion I dont have.
I dont say no to her without reason; if she wants sweets, she has sweets where a child can be told no for example. And how many times have you seen an adult dragging a screaming child by the hand because they have to be somewhere and the child is having a tantrum because it doesnt want to go? I dont have that luxury either, and...
I've been forced to change my perspective. That's something I'm unaccustomed to, because usually there's a line drawn. Snarling, wild horses, that kind of thing. I'm unable to just change my mind on core issues.
However, I've been keeping an eye on Craft It Yourself, and was surprised to see more of my influence in it. Thanks for not identifying me, CIY, or featuring me, that hurts.
Because if what you're saying is true, my work has influenced some of the more creative among us here in the UK to start folding Origami again, and the interior designers have gone all low poly over the geometric forms in that, and what I'm doing. Ok, initially I was offended, nobody likes to see their hard work displayed by someone else (and I still am with you, Robin, that was blatant enough to get my attention.) but when its a design movement inspired by them...? Apparently the Zen of Origami is the new colouring book too.
You're kidding me, right? Dark monochromatic surfaces with contrasting lighter detail, I cant think where I've seen that before, except in my head, where it leaks out into my artwork... The words liberally studded describe it. Next week Craft It Yourself are featuring a four-poster bed, so they advertise.
Been there, done that, got the T-Shirt
Inside is a box-section bed. It's another up-cycle, the wood came from wardrobes, the Kapok from furniture, the canopy frame used to be bunk-beds, and I added a king-size cotton valance sheet, and some Indian muslin I had imported specifically.
I made it over 2 years ago, it gives me privacy as Bea is inclined to walk into a room without asking, and its incredibly comfortable. The mattress is 8" deep natural cotton and is also hand-made. If I have to sleep alone, I'll at least do it in style.
You make your bed, you have to lay in it.
OK OK, I can take a hint. But it isnt me you have to convince. Nor is it Bea, who is happy with her existence as it is. That's the problem, I've been given legal advocacy for her after our little disagreement with the government over this; she wants to live in the community and has chosen to live with her old dad since her mum bailed out on her decades ago, and its pretty much all she's known. Well apparently that also makes me her carer, however I'd disagree with that. Last I looked there's statues being torn down over the ethics of bondage, and I'm not talking about using a safe word.
No means no, and I say no to being used as a shit-scraper while I've got enough people impressed with my skunkworks that it's spilled over into the art and design sphere, never mind robotics. If you want to know why I'm annoyed, I'm on benefits, which I dont have a choice on. Bea by default gets her EESA and PIP, and because she lives with me the local council, who own my house, class that as my income. It also means the benefits agency can get away with putting me on Income Support, where I am not fit for work.
If I do work, I get to keep 20 quid of the proceeds. The government keeps the rest, unless I dont declare it. Kind of hard to hide a craze that's sweeping the nation, and I think I might make more than 20 quid in a week. Never mind a painting breaks the limit of 16 hours paid work in a week if I sell it. The cheeky bastards have sanctioned me numerous times already for voluntary work as it is; I'm actually waiting for them to sanction me for even being in the Prize.
Well I've had it with that noise. I like scruffy jeans, and if I want to walk around looking like a tramp I will. I'll just do it in £250 jeans with that distressed look, and I might even take to a man-bun myself yet.
50 years. I spend my life quietly fighting the injustices of a broken system, researching and experimenting, raising children alone, caring for one of them because she never got a fair crack at life and pay no mind to myself. Never been interested in fame, money, even popularity.
There's a good reason. Everyone wants to ride the unicorn. I hide because every time I do anything creative, some fop takes it and wipes their perfumed arse on it. I dont mind my friends using my talents or ideas, there's a limit to what I can do myself, which is why I joined HaD. Few people here would just steal my work and those that would arent welcome here anyway.
Comes down to some thieving ponce putting my work on national TV without so much as a credit. Well I've got to do something about that havent I? Its not the first time this has happened, but it is the first time one of those nasty celebrity makers has ripped off a disabled person and their carer so brazenly.
Tough luck for him, I'm going to make him pay for dipping his wick where it doesnt belong.
Channel 4's Craft It Yourself should take a leaf out of their own book, because Robin Johnson lifted Cardware-Origaime straight off my pages and called it his work. Anybody that knows me, knows exactly how much work went into developing a style as well as the geometry required to create Cardware, which the man-bun sporting twit didnt show because he doesnt know it. Instead, he shamelessly bullshit the viewers with some nonsense about low-poly-count art which has more to do with statistics mathematically than geometry and doesnt apply to the cardboard polyhedra Cardware is formed of, that I experimented with using as moulds, and he poured wax in to make pretty candles.
Perhaps he thought he might get away with it. Perhaps he thought I might take vengeance against him, and create some satirical artwork to further glorify him. Perhaps he just didnt even bother to read the profile of the man he was plagiarising, or perhaps he just doesnt care about other people at all, even the vulnerable. Either way, he's wrong.
Robin Johnson, you're a thieving prick. I dont make a habit of looking down on anyone, I value equality. I do however make exceptions for people who manage to prove themselves not worthy, and stealing from the vulnerable is a quick way of doing that.
Reprehensible behaviour from anyone, inexcusable from a public figure.
I guess I have been throwing off a lot of negativity lately havent I. Well the three dimensions I'm currently squeezed into arent exactly comfortable, and even I'm growing impatient with the fourth...
I should tell you instead about what's become one of my favourite occupations so you might understand why I'm doing any of it. I've yelled plenty about why I'm having trouble with it...
Most of you are makers, or would like to be. The satisfaction of creating something with your bare hands is palpable even if it is for decoration and has no real function. It rests on your palm, light picking out the detail that was once just a thought, a swirl of electrons and chemicals. I find this quite delightful, and it's enough for me to do it for that alone. Bringing value into the equation sullies it, and the routine of career destroys it, which is a pity because to display it invites both, and there are no other reasons for art than its creation and viewing.
Oh yeah money talks, I just dont like the snidey tone of its voice. Historically though, that's never paid the bills and it doesnt look like its going to change either. One of the problems with morals is they are inflexible though. It's not like I can just sell out, I have responsibilities.
Fuck it. If you cant beat 'em, beat 'em.
Still not there though. There's a sense of magic to it, I not only have the ability to tease out a thought from my brain and make it real but also to take with it something tangible... I can stuff that thought it into the mechanism and make it spring to life, animate it, and that thought carries on ticking away outside my skull. If I'm careful with the construction, that thought will outlive me.
This fascination I gather is what drives artists, authors and musicians alike, to leave something behind that will outlive them in a way unlike photographs, statuary, even a waxwork of them should they be so lucky. Immortality... Its the same with us all edging toward the Singularity, the ability to persist outside our mortal selves forever is a powerful draw, one of the basis points for religion too. It's also a reason for learning to program a computer for some people. It drives me, even though I dont have a burning need to upload my entire being like some.
There is a natural order to things, birth and death are there for a reason and its called evolution. To deliberately subvert this process, pinch yourself off as perfection with no need of further improvement is not only egotistical but stupid too. Never mind other planes of existence, deciding this one is best is also not very open-minded. I'll take my chances with the rest, thanks, and leave behind just what I can make.
I should also be more careful with what I say too. I thoughtlessly used the words, 'I have nowhere to go from here', meaning no matter what I do or say I'm stuck here as a carer, and claiming historic achievements changes nothing. You wouldnt believe how anticlimactic that is compared to what it sounds like. I havent reached a pinnacle anyway, I now have a lot of work to do a) to keep up a reputation and b) to do things I do to my satisfaction. It's a lot to perfect, I'll spend my existence vainly trying to do so for no reason than my own. I'm not looking for perfection you see, I'm driven to equivalence. Humanity set itself some bloody high standards however, and being isolated from society while I obtained what I thought was equivalence blinded me to it.
Oh thats it. I'm out of the competition and I need to concentrate my energies on fixing my circumstances.
I cant live like this any more. It may be perceived as clever to be able to build stuff out of scrap, repurpose old equipment and the like but I'm not doing any of this to be clever. I'm doing it because I'm flat broke beyond food and a roof over my head and its just getting worse. My income is capped and prices keep rising.
I logged about the ESP's, they took so long to arrive and then caused me grief. I've got working limbs, code to drive them, a board to put the chips in and 4 chips - the 328s - but I've run into an unsolvable problem with them. Despite falling back to a couple of genuine Arduino boards running the AnalogSerial example wired to a potentiometer, I cant get the ADC's to work and neither me nor Arsenijs could make sense of it. To be honest I'm using decade-old shit and its probably that.
The reasons I've been getting a lot of crap from people I share a town with are complicated, one of them is a persistent habit of paying more attention to my devices than people, and being a bit unapproachable apparently. I should do something about this seeing as I now have a public image, and spending my days hiding out and playing with computers or even cardboard isnt very sociable.
My public image is also worrying in other ways. I came to HaD to find others like me, and over the last six months came to the disturbing conclusion that there isnt anyone not only anywhere in Britain, but globally either. Projection Synaesthesia really is that rare, generationally. It upset me; I felt alone and wandered my home turf feeling like an alien stranded on Earth, the only one of my kind.
There are other ways of looking at it however. I could describe myself as the most widely-skilled human on the planet... Leonardo DaVinci managed to integrate the sciences and arts, but I've added music to the list of skills he could apply. To be fair, he didnt have access to computers, and a Lute never inspired me either much. Cant say the idea of being the new DaVinci really inspires me either. It'd be different if I had the lifestyle that should bring me, but instead I'm a carer on benefits. Thats just embarrassing, if nothing else, and its not the caring part that I have a problem with.
You might wonder why I dont just change this, but Bea doesnt want the half-assed care she'd get from zero-hours carers so I have to do it. Secondly, as her parent I always spoke for her, but as an adult in care she was given advocacy. When I then began caring for her again myself, they gave me that advocacy because they couldnt take away the voice they'd given her. This means that I have to speak for her against my own opinion, act for her against my own judgement, and that includes ending that relationship.
I'd never voluntarily give up caring for her, but thats not the point. I'm legally forced to do it as a matter of responsibility, and I didnt volunteer for that. It's an abuse of my rights as an individual because I'm not compensated for it either, I'm treated as a burden. It isnt like I feel I deserve better, but FFS, a man with my talents kept as a slave by the government to serve their amoral agenda is just ridiculous.
All in all, I'm done. I can only apologise to those who feel let down, but this cant go on.
This probably looks like whining but I'm going to post it anyway.
As you all know, the bulk of my attention goes on caring for my daughter and keeping body and soul together. It keeps me around the house a lot, and I dont get much of a break from it. I do get respite, which takes the form of Bea going to a care home around the corner from where we live that's run by the state. Bea has some friends resident there who she then gets to spend a few days with once a month. Naturally, the focus is on Bea having a break from routine.
Nobody gives a damn about the carer who handles the routine though. Unpaid, unsupported, unappreciated and largely ignored for 9 out of every 10 days by the system set up to address her welfare. I dont understand what's kept me sane over the decades of abuse either, but sane I am. Allegedly...
Bea is largely not bothered, if she understands she doesnt communicate it and just gets on with bea-ing... She bothers no-one, and those that know her, like her. Mostly anyway. Well she's just been away on her break, returning Thursday night in her usual manner, looking like she'd been through a hedge, with pockets full of stones, in clothes she traded with her mates. I've about given up and just accept this as part of life; despite having rules and regulations, procedures, routines, steering meetings and buzzwords used to avoid addressing it directly the system basically cant look after her. Oh she's well fed, protected and respected, all the things you'd expect to work do, but plait a couple of feet of hair and make sure her socks arent odd? Well, we are talking parenting skills and not everybody has them, but the system employs carers who really should. Its just irritating, particularly after another branch of the same system basically accused me of neglect.
So Friday night, with the return of Summer's longer evenings Bea sneaked out on the balcony and normally that isnt an issue with the neighbour kids around. I pay attention, its not like she'd wander off but I dont let myself get absorbed in things and it isnt long before I wonder what she's up to. (if you have children, you will understand the prickling sensation of silence in a house normally populated by screams and thuds that sound like murder. Quiet usually precedes actual trouble...) I had one eye on HackChat, waiting for the audio session which I've yet to read because I missed it, and one eye on the news, Bea vanished upstairs after dinner so the next thing I knew was her upset, bawling her head off. The neighbour kids scattered and I couldnt get out of them or Bea exactly what happened. Somebody had been nasty to her I think, some teenagers on their way to the play-park to smoke and hang out with their equally rancid friends from what I could make of it.
This upsets me at the best of times, but last night really got to me. Had I been able to prove this or at least identify the little b*d who caused it, I would have caused him significant trauma teaching him some respect for others, and it frightened even me. I'm not the kind of man who easily gets enraged, it takes a lot. I'll growl and bark before I bite because I dont do anything by halves and violence is no exception.
I cant even write eloquently about this, or paint it, and it even interferes with my ability to play an instrument. I dont want to dump it on my friends, and it seems I'm pitied for it if I say anything but thats not what I want when I do. The feeling of being trapped by this is tangible, and sometimes it reaches a point where I would literally beat some troll senseless with my fists. And I do not like this at all, I normally will put myself in harms way before another without thinking about it. And I like that about myself, I've proven myself capable of dealing with some pretty intense stuff.
I wish it didnt cause me black depression but it does, I look to others to behave like humans too, and when I get let down by filth like that it only highlights the decency I find among you guys. Thats...
I get a real buttload of flack from all walks of life. I'm on benefits, and as a carer exempt from the usual crap of going down the JobCentre and looking for work. Scrounger, lazy, crazy, scruffy and worthless. Probably a stoner and a drunk too, its not my favourite place to hang out anyway. They hate me in any case - even if I didnt have Bea to look after I'm practically unemployable.
Who in their right mind would take on someone who could replace them and half their staff, and document it in multimedia. Thats another reason the benefits agency dont like me very much, and I'm not proud of it. I should be, I know, but I'm not a star...
Then I get this nonsense. Luckily for them, it isnt for me. Because we have an agreement about this after lengthy discussion with the social arm of local authority... But if you want evidence of the idiocy of this government that ^^^ would be it. Instead, they are asking my daughter to justify her benefits.
Considering they wrote to me, and know I have to fill it in on her behalf because of her profound disabilities. They wont even let me volunteer, or do charity work without sanctioning me. What the actual f*ck is wrong with these people?
I'm not crazy, but there is a real danger to my sanity and thats why I get depressed. There's only one way out. Two if I count suicide, and I dont mean crying for help. Been there, done that, have a range of hand-painted TShirts on the subject... What the system wants is Bea in care and me earning them significant tax return on my endeavours, and I'd agree if she minded. But we both know it means her staring at the walls, unkempt and not cared for like I do, while I fly off to fulfil my dreams.
While I was digging around around among my boxes of crap looking for hardware, I found a whole bunch of things I havent seen in a while. Oh Seredipity, sister to Muse...
This is one of those things. I made some batteries accidentally but I dont have the equipment to test and reverse engineer what I've built, so I'm guessing. Well I found the original test pieces that are now over three years old and are still performing as they did when built.
Being as I cant print yet, having lost a motherboard to my nemesis Lady Fate, I decided to test them again.
These are the test pieces. As you can see, really simple. Just a layer of silicone flue sealant and another on top with graphite added, smeared on a piece of lead. The lead is oxidised to hell, this bit came off a roof and was scavenged from a pile of rubble that used to keep one away from the ground.
Yep, still reads half a volt. Thats not electrolysis, it would have dried up a *long* time ago.
Similarly with the other one. The copper and aluminium test pieces are as good as dead, only marginally above the flutter you get on a test meter anyway. I havent shown them but they are pretty much the same as these ones otherwise.
Knowing lead, that shouldn't work but it does. You need to poke the oxidised surface quite hard to get a clear reading with the probe, so the silicon crystal is definitely doing something to it in contact. The reverse side in contact with the lower one is not cleaned up.
Embarrassing, I hurried my soldering on the last repair and left a little bit of stray wire, which I think touched the case of the adjacent power socket. I didnt make a proper job, didnt secure it and it slowly dropped under its own weight... Well it shorted out and tripped the power supply but I've now fixed the fault, and the PSU resets itself and is running again.
This is just the tip of the cosmic helium berg that chose my life to tear the hulls out of. Grrr...
The whole story
It began with a power outage, and when it was restored my Athlon X2 motherboard was toasted by a spike. I threw everything I knew at it, and managed to get it through the POST once, and that was it. Then it refused to boot, and the drive light locked on with no BIOS output. Since it does half-work with no drives plugged in I'm guessing its not the BIOS at fault. I cant be bothered to grub it out of there and solder in a new one anyway. I swore, profusely, and tried to boot the mill's motherboard. I haven't used that in two years or more as the development is on my Athlon, so I was only marginally more annoyed that didn't work. I gave it up as a bad job and didn't bother. I thought I was doing well until then.
First and last time I saw this. Why I took a picture I dont know.
I tried my Raspberry Pi B, hooked up a HDMI cable and booted that, but its fitted with a 3.2" touchscreen and the video modules are patched to output to that. I still didn't have any proper browsing, HaD wouldn't work as the screen was too small. I managed to post in messages that I was down and tried to unpatch the video, and broke it. Joy...
Next I dug out an Acer laptop I'd been given for spares and tried to fix that unsuccessfully, then a Compaq NX series using bits from the Acer, and a USB-SATA adapter for the DVD. I managed to boot that with a Live DVD and tried Hackaday again...
Big mistake. The code for the page made so many referrals to the CD it took more than an hour to load, and then a script gave up and it fell over. Wow, why is that so huge? I hadn't noticed running on a decent system. Mind you, it is a Turion1.6GHz. I tried to install Mint Sarah on it as its all I had laying around, and the install failed. I was a bit annoyed by then, I can tell you.
I dug out the remains of an Advent Modena and wondered. I had to find it memory and solder on a power supply to bypass the missing battery and broken power socket, hardwire the network, use a big external monitor and a USB keyboard and mouse just to get that to POST.
Then I used the Compaq to copy the Live CD to it's internal drive as an ISO, then I imaged that onto another SATA drive using the thumbdrive writer app in Mint, then booted it on the SATA-USB and installed it to the internal drive before putting it into the Advent so it ran. The Advent wouldn't boot the DVD off the USB for some reason so it became the target system for the repair.
I wouldnt have had to do any of that if HaD ran on a mobile phone, or had an app... Or ran on a piece of sh*t Turion, or on any system with a Live DVD - which is really in the spirit of hacking. I mean, HaD looks nice, but it doesn't work so well unless you have a good system. A little exclusive there. ;-P
Cloud theory derives from 100% redundancy, that is, the data describes itself in a complete set with each unit storing not only itself, but also its relation to all the others. A very basic example is Peano's series of integers, which is the basis of all our math. Because we know that any unit in this integer series is exactly one away from its nearest neighbours, not only does each unit describe itself uniquely but also describes its position uniquely in the series - information that can be used to relate it to all of the others. The universe being what it is, unitary and made of atoms that are all identical, means they sequence in aggregate to define themselves as different over time and distance. This is some evidence of my theory. Each atom, when viewed mathematically is a reactive tensor set formed of vectors that describe its relationship not only to its own parts, but to its neighbours as well. All of them. That is fundamental, because you can never take one atom in isolation. Do this, and it becomes identical to any other because it is the relationship between itself and others that defines it as being what it is at any one time.
Hydrogen for example is one electron, one neutron, one proton. But it never exists this way, it is always found as H2, or joined to something else like oxygen to make H2O. The universe exists as it does because at a fundamental level it has variety of atoms to form structures that describe the tensor sets physically. The only place where this rule doesn't apply is at the beginning of the universe, which is interesting. At this point here there were no bits in the stream, no information to contain...
After the Big Bang, the universe was a flat and featureless sea of protons neutrons and electrons distributed from our point of view equidistantly. It was also dark, there were no reactions occurring to emit light - Right before that it was a point-space with no dimension that expanded in an instant into n-space. It wasn't so much a bang as a ping... Viewed on a universal scale, this sea also wasn't so featureless. Areas within it had tiny variations in distance, the denser areas drew together over time, orbited and collided to form triplets - one proton one neutron and one electron to make elemental hydrogen. This then paired up and began to clump into increasingly hotter and denser H2 gas, the birth of the first stars. These early stars just made helium, which lit up the universe with ultraviolet and Xrays and when they died spread the helium out each in a huge explosion.
Other stars took it in and bonded it with hydrogen and itself to make the heavier elements, and in doing so emitted visible light as well as UV and Xray, repeatedly dying and spitting out fused raw materials for the rest of the elements that we have today. The process is still going on and will continue until every atom in the universe has been bonded together to make a single super-element. It will only exist as a single atom for a single quanta before flying apart again into its components, single protons neutrons and electrons. This starts the process over again, eternally it would appear.
Viewing this process as an Information System, what you have is data representation and realignment to process information, arriving at a singular result. However because an information system can never contain itself, once the unitary result has been arrived at there is nowhere to put it - so a new system is created to store it in. This process is eternal as far as I can tell, however it may be that each time around the resulting universe is slightly different - processing information using universes as unitary data elements seems to me a pretty good way of figuring out the kind of problems a god plays with. And to me, God IS the arrangement of all the protons, neutrons, electrons. Not the atoms themselves but the tensor sets that describe them in unison across the entire universe. The architecture...
I'm not actually a professor, I'd like to be clear about that. Formal qualifications in the arts and sciences have never been my thing, and I've been a caregiver for close to 20 years alone and unassisted. I hardly had time to get more than vocational certifications for teaching IT and my career was over...
It has allowed me time to think, time to research and play in my secret laboratory though, and you have seen the results. I have a unique mind, Projection Synaesthesia is named because the individual's mind literally projects onto the world, and changes it. Pervades all aspects of their lives. It is as much a curse as a gift, for those who offer me nothing but envy, or worse.
I do love how I can project myself into a guitar, a synth, a computer and become part of it - or it part of me - and it is the same for all the things I touch. It makes me enigmatic, I know, and shy, which is why I don't comment a lot. I'm not here for validation either, another reason for not having letters after my name.
If you want to know the reason behind the change of name, @Mark Nesselhaus and I had a good laugh about Gilligan's Island - what with me stuck on my little island here and building myself a new society from bamboo and coconuts the way I do. He called me Prof and it stuck. Meh, I dont really mind, I've been called some things in my time. Most of them unrepeatable in print, thank you to the trolls who delight in getting away with it. That is why I was delighted Mark was inspired to write a piece of 'faction' for the Cardware project which just about sums me up, but in less comedic fashion than Gilligan's.
I may joke about taking over the world with my robots, but I am kind of serious about it. I'm aware however that nobody wants a Terminator running around their homes, so I'm doing it with an army of robots that can at best give you a paper cut. Hardly threatening, I'd say. I've also watched and read enough fiction as well as fact to know that a functioning synthetic intelligence wont fit inside a single computer unless it takes up a lot of real estate and a lot of power, needs cooling, security, maintenance, administration, etc, etc.
Supercomputers can now be built from nodes like Raspberry Pi's all networked together, but you need a lot of them to do anything worthwhile. This is the theory behind the synthetic intelligence for AIMos, which will drive the hardware and talk to other nodes on the network. It is a supercomputing environment. Each node has it's own sensors and servos, maintenance, security etc, and real estate in the form of an environment to study. The system will never send video, images or personal information because it uses the AIMil language to transmit what the system knows. An AIMil program is the machine equivalent of a thought, which in the confines of an individual robot is limited to sensory and motive information. Viewed as a wider supercomputing environment with sensory and motive information flowing across it controlling that robot - all the robots - you can see why I am trying to build a synthetic intelligence this way. Safely... It is designed to play and no more. This is how a child learns, and I dont see a better way than an awful lot of 'parents' teaching my 'child' rather than myself alone.
These are lessons I have learned from the world around me, cautions because my dreams have an annoying habit of coming true if I wish that. And it's taught me to be careful what I wish for.
I do wish I could describe for you the misery caused by being stared at and talked about as if I'm public property. I'm no celebrity either you see, and dont wish to be. That would require a much larger ego than I have managed to grow after the life I've had. You wouldnt believe me if I wrote it here so I'm saving it for a book, when I'm too old for anything else.
Remember that you are my inspiration as well as my followers, my critics, pundits, friends and acquaintances. I'm an artist at heart, because I am visual. I paint the world's...
I cant say I've had a lot of luck with social media. I dont find it very social for one thing.
Hackaday is different. Hackaday is a home like the internet used to be nearly a quarter of a century ago. Much has changed of course, I no longer have to phone into a bulletin board on a 2400BPS modem for starters, and the engineers and programmers that dominated the boards are all here by the looks.
Those early days were heady, I remember using ICQ from its early text-only interface, watched as ASCII Art appeared, Smilies grew into Emoticons, and many slaps in the face with a wet trout scrolled up the screen. The chatroom got too crowded and turned into a Lobby for threaded chat with quizzes. Virtual drinks and presents appeared, it was another world altogether.
Speaking of drinks, I remember that being the death knell for me. The internet as I knew it was changing fast as it became popular. Saturday Night chatrooms appeared as people began to go online for entertainment, and the weekends became fraught with drunken football fans, and eventually that was every evening of the week. By the time Bingo Chat had arrived I was out of there and used the internet for research and email until MySpace popped up.
Then Facebook arrived and all hell broke loose. I tried it, and the feeling I got from it was to have my work stolen, my privacy invaded, and a channel opened for abuse from people who didnt want to understand me. It pushed me to the edge of a breakdown, and I deleted it after I realised that locking it down to private mode kind of defeated the object as well. Antisocial Media wasnt what I was after.
I have good days and bad days, I struggle with depression. With the eyes of a mad scientist I look at my hands, one an artist's, one a musician's, and wonder why I was made this way.
But since I joined Hackaday I've noticed no flaming torches that arent for lighting the way, and not a pitchfork in sight... It feels again like it used to and I am inspired.
To all the kind and cool people I've encountered, and those I've yet to meet... Welcome to my world.
In the Autumn 22 years ago, my eldest daughter was born. She looked perfect, and did all the things babies should do, for a little while at least. But she didn't sit, took 4 years to learn to walk and has never said anything more than 'B'. What little I have managed to find out about others with the condition, this sort of thing is not unusual and often earns them a nickname. Her name is Keri, but I've always called her Bea myself, long before I knew anything much about her condition.
By the time she was two, me and her mother were at breaking point, knew something was wrong and were tired of chasing doctors as to what exactly. We ran out of doctors who didn't shrug eventually, and wound up in London for a few days and a battery of tests that Bea didn't like much. In the end they stuck her head in an MRI to have a look.
I remember there being a lot of muttering before we were approached and given the diagnosis. What did that mean, I asked, to be told that there hadn't been enough documented cases for them to refer to statistically, and she couldn't even be given a life expectancy. They'd never even seen a case themselves, although they had heard of it. Of functionality, they had no idea either, and could only tell me what was wrong:
The Corpus Callosum is a bundle of nerve fibre buried deep inside the brain that connects the two hemispheres together directly, and forms the main bridge for communication.
Bea's didn't form correctly. This is what dysgenesis means, sometimes it is called agenesis where it is completely missing, but she has one, if only a vestige. It means that it takes her a long time to figure out things properly, because normally, emotional content is processed in one hemisphere and logical content is processed in the other. It must mean that she is literally in two minds about things, although she has one distinct personality. She doesn't understand what it is she likes/dislikes about something, and its hard to like something you don't understand, so it must be difficult for her. She is happy and friendly though, and everyone likes her.
Brain tissue is highly plastic, especially when young, so if it is damaged it does it's best to re-route signals and re-establish function. Bea was born this way, so to route signals around a missing part of her brain, it has co-opted other processes, degrading her motor function and presumably giving her Synaesthesia too. Speech is processed and articulated each by different hemispheres, so her brain thinks it is speaking, and at the same time doesn't know what to say. These are known as aphasias, and it is unusual to have both of them. It also affects symbolic communication, so she is as unable to write and sign as she is to speak. But she does understand, and like me has a photographic memory. She notices even small changes in things and points them out with an accusing smile; 'Hey, you moved that picture!'
Most people have heard of Rain Man, the film with Dustin Hoffman as an auteur. Some people are aware he studied with an auteur to learn his part well enough to treat the subject with the dignity and respect the film had, but very few are aware who that was. It was Kim Peek, a man from Utah with brain abnormalities including Agenesis of the Corpus Callosum. Like Bea, he presented as autistic, but he was also savant - he had a phenomenal memory and perfect recall. Unfortunately, since 2009 Kim is no longer with us. Until his death though, he lived with his father and enjoyed limited fame with his abilities.
Like Kim's family, my relationship with Bea's mum didn't survive, and I was left to raise her and her sister alone after a traumatic breakup. I've become her voice and her hands, and now she is an adult I'm her advocate as well as her carer. I've been asked many times why I've done this, being as polar as we are. Raising two daughters, one of whom needs everything doing for her has given me strength I never even knew I had.
Sometimes, I look at my hands and think of all the things...
During the course of
constructing a device intended to generate heat resistively, I
noticed a tiny voltage present in the device between the ground plane
and both ends of the resistive element.
The element itself is made
from pure carbon, bonded and stabilised with a SiO2 cement. It is
designed to operate up to 350c, so I chose a flue cement that is rated to
1500c over polymerised silicon that is rated to 300c or so. The
element is cast on a bed of pure SiO2 cement that insulates it
electrically from the brass tube the element is intended to heat. It
also has a small glass-encapsulated thermistor bead embedded in it,
which turned out to be completely superfluous...
Basically what I did was take a piece of brass tube and wind two pieces of thick square flexible plastic around it. I then removed one of them after taping the ends down, leaving an even spiral groove which I filled with the cement and left to cure. Then I removed the remaining bit of plastic and filled the groove left behind with a mixture of a little flue cement, graphite and thinners. I added wires, and when it had cured I stuck the thermistor and wires on with more cement and left it to go off completely. I was pretty pleased with the results by now...
I had already made several
test castings on plastic and paper formers and established this
format of element to be around 15KOhm resistance, but here I couldnt get a
clear reading and the meter jumped around like it was connected to a
live component. I tested for resistance between the element and tube,
expecting a short and got even jumpier readings, so I tested the tube
for voltage and found a tiny milliamp current at 0.2V. Eventually I
traced it, after disconnecting everything, to a differential between
the tube and element. I assumed it to be electrolytic and coming from
traces of moisture in the fresh cement and ignored it, but it never
went away.
Not electrolytic then. The
voltage also increased with the tube at a higher temperature, so I
thought it was behaving like a thermocouple. It isnt a thermocouple
in a classic sense though, it would be a semiconductor analogue of one. It
is also extremely inefficient in this format, and probably only works as such because
of an accident.
I used a piece of marine brass
modelling stock for the tube, figuring that the Monel it is made of
would resist better chemically inside. Monel has the addition of
around 15% Aluminium compared with the little or none in ISO brass
formulations, and forms a layer of Aluminium Oxide (Carborundum, or
Sapphire) a few molecules thick on the surface of the Monel that
completely passivates it. It was this that made the difference.
I made some test pieces with
clean and oxidised metals and measured them, and discovered that Lead
(passivated and clean results being identical) is by far the best
substrate, with Aluminium coming in a close second. I just pasted the unmodified cement onto the test substrate, left it to cure and covered it with the carbon:
Strangely, Copper, ISO Brass,
Tin, Zinc and Stainless Steel were in the centivolt range, where
Lead and Aluminium both were around half a volt. This almost directly
contradicts results I have had experimenting with Aluminium,
Stainless Steel, Magnesium, Copper and Carbon electrolytically, and
makes little sense with the range of materials used in conventional
thermocouples too.
Stainless Steel and Aluminium are opposite each
other on the Voltaic chart, however the polarity is reversed, and
Aluminium makes such a pitiful thermocouple it isnt commercially used
– Copper, Iron and Nickel are more normal choices. It was this that
clued me in to what may be happening inside the junction, along with the
knowledge that it required an oxide layer to work. This is an
insulator normally, so something odd was going on. Lead Oxide is also
not known for its conductive qualities outside of Memristor
technologies (I tested for Memristor activity and found none, however
the configuration may be preventing this. Sulphur...
Synaesthesia in itself is pretty common, it is reckoned around 1 in 10 people have one of the basic types. It isnt autism, but it is one of the traits listed as being on the Spectrum and some auteurs have it.
The word means literally blending of the senses. Ask any musician why they play an instrument; it is probably because they 'feel the music'. Well music is a sound, sound is vibration and we all feel the physical presence of a large, deep sound. Thats not it... Likewise most people can generate emotional responses to sounds and be happier or sadder, thats not it either. But some are able to generate sensations, colours or visions, and occasionally even smells and tastes from sounds.
These are the common types, others include seeing numbers or words in colour - grapheme responses - and the rarer types include blending of the other senses in unusual ways, and involving several or all senses at once.
One type that is mentioned is what I have, Projection Synaesthesia. It's said to be rare, rare enough that an example of a living person with it isnt mentioned. There are many artists, musicians, authors, film-makers listed as having the other types, but not one has Projection.
Believe me, I've looked.
I'm able to create a vision of something I'd like to make, highly detailed, that hangs in front of me like a hologram and use that as a reference for building it. It can be a physical object; AIME no longer exists thanks to our government's barbarous treatment of disabled people and their carers. I also lost the family home my kids grew up in and a bunch of things and people I'd rather not as well. Nuff said really, or I'll use bad language....
However, I have a mental map of AIME and her parts down to the last nut and bolt as well as her mental architecture in my head. I rarely plan anything beyond noting physical dimensions on rough sketches prior to building, and it is the same for all the things I've made. My memory is truly photographic in this respect, and the detailed structure of a program is no exception. Code is of all the things I see, the most beautiful though. It is almost crystalline, always in motion, and somehow fern-like in how it unfolds. All I have to do is describe it to the computer, in whichever language is most appropriate.
I'm on here trying to find another like me, among other reasons. I'm alone, but for my daughter who also has a rare condition. I'll write about that too, in another page.
I kind of gave up looking for a woman like me when I realised what a total nerd I am, and have learned to deal with loneliness without it killing me. But I am left with a void I cant fill with all the art, music or computer code in the world.
Believe me, Ive tried.
Psalm For The Insane
The things that all the faces say had never mattered anyway A saint of patience for today he's never known another way
To live a hundred million years build mountains out of hopes and fears collect an ocean up of tears he did it for you all my dears
From life in an abysmal Stench enslaved in some Abyssal Trench Torn free with an almighty wrench Born free today on this park bench
A light that burns the brightest star A voice that beckons from afar Through blackest hole and space bizarre to gaze on beauty without par
So try and try, try yet again string broken letters in a chain and utter to unknown refrain a Psalm for the Insane
Bea's didn't form correctly. This is what dysgenesis means, sometimes it is called agenesis where it is completely missing, but she has one, if only a vestige. It means that it takes her a long time to figure out things properly, because normally, emotional content is processed in one hemisphere and logical content is processed in the other. It must mean that she is literally in two minds about things, although she has one distinct personality. She doesn't understand what it is she likes/dislikes about something, and its hard to like something you don't understand, so it must be difficult for her. She is happy and friendly though, and everyone likes her.
The Origami Calling Card is actually featured twice in the same episode. They really got me good lol. In fact, so did MI : Fallout, who used my Quantum Symmetry Protocol, a hardened communications principle that uses a handshake-less error checking and recovery method to sync reception with transmission, as the basis for the twin nuke's ability to detonate when the other one is tampered with, via a radio signal.
... The irony of referring to it as a Salary.
Walking back from town today I encountered this epic dude. Now I live in the south UK, so there arent many droids around. Its a bit of a backwater.
This is what is takes to get recognition. And no, not recognition for my work either, recognition for my humanity.
I cut down the shirt sleeves in line with the body, and cut off half the length. I used a piece of the spare cloth to block the neck-hole up with by tacking it to the base of the collar and then machining round it from the outside, sealing the top button into place. The side seams were then rolled and machined into place, then I undid the buttons and rolled the bottom seam into place.
