Ceci n'est pas une pipe

Last summer I held company under the umbrella with what in effect is a classic of American literature of the twentieth century: the novel Ask the Dust by John Fante. That book was kept closed until a few days ago in the trunk of my car along with an inflatable pillow inflated, accompanied by my rollerblades used socks, crumpled in a tourist guide with pictures of the Cote d'Azur as it was thirty years ago, for an odd ball - even that inflated - it seems the fish OpenBSD and a blue Frisbee. Besides a small amount of sand, not a lot, say just enough to scratch the lenses of a pair of sunglasses is not just the best. Now that book I went back in my hands and I am recovering from that book with the pages folded corner to mark the passages that struck me the most. The paper has been that pleasant transformation that comes from long exposure to the sun, by the accumulation of sand in every fold and dall'impregnarsi of salt along the outer edges. Well, hold it between your hands me back a good two months and gives me back a gram of thoughtlessness ferragostana. This is one of the steps marked with a folded corner of the page, with the arrowhead indicates the first line of thought that I wanted to remember:

He was lying crossing his ankles. Under the hem of her apron in sight and the top few inches of rolled up socks with dark skin. Her hair, scattered on the pillow, seemed out of ink from a bottle. She was lying on her side and watching me with his face in the pillow semiaffondata. I smiled, then raised his hand and waved a finger as a sign of reproach.
- Come here, Arthur, - I said with a warm voice.
I made a gesture of denial.
- No, thank you. I'm fine where I am.
I turned to look out the window, feeling his gaze on him. I could touch her, take her in his arms. Yes, Arthur, was enough that you stood up and I stretch out beside her, but the night on the beach, how the sonnet and the telegram of love floated through the room like ghosts.
- Are you afraid? - I said.
- You? - And I burst out laughing.
- Of course you do.
- Not sure what you say.
He opened his arms and felt that I would open it all, but I did not do more than to sink within me, bringing me with her tender and voluptuous image.

Holy cow, the sand is over between the keys of my laptop ...

The mailing list of BGLUG announces that the poster is available with the official program of the Linux Day 2009. Like every year, the event will be held at the Faculty of Engineering, University of Bergamo , Via Marconi in Dalmine (BG).

Admission is free, the event consists of a series of seminars and workshops on the topic of Free Software and Open Source movement in general in all its forms. I highly recommend to attend.

If you are not in the area and want to know the LUG near you that adheres to the event, visit the website http://www.linuxday.it .

Вот уже больше чем десять лет как я кончил университет. Несколько дней назад я купил русскую клавятуру ... или я должен бы сказать покупал русскую клавятуру ... не знаю, теперь не помню ... Well, now control how you read those two lines with different browsers I have available. The page is encoded in UTF-8, so there should be no problem. Cross your fingers! Hey, как сказать "fingers crossed" по-русски?

Although there are certainly more orthodox methods, resorting to the old and deprecated FTP to maintain synchronization between directories on two servers located at times is simply the only solution. I am referring to situations where the customer demands the daily backup of an old application that resides on a server to which you can access - for reasons unfathomable - solely and exclusively by FTP.

Just between us, the customer has almost never right, and I say this from experience: he looks at things from a perspective almost always conservative, even and especially when things do not go at all well. The philosophy of the typical customer is very often the following: it has always worked, so it will work forever. Or worse: it has always worked OK, but it always worked, so it will work OK but will work forever. A syllogism chilling ... Read the rest »

I would say that now the project InSegreto.com reached a point of maturity that you can talk about publicly. It is not my own work, even if it is hosted on one of my servers. It is the result of work of a skilled developer who pulled grass on this reservoir of unspeakable thoughts and to respond to a technical challenge to himself, and to give space to a neutral position and release sequence that bullshit - I hope - is destined to grow day by day. Courage, visit http://www.insegreto.com sbizzarrite and your ego!