Via Lesley Mitchell I was pointed at Wil Wheaton’s ficlets page and unfortunately for the world, I was inspired to contribute three original ficlets to the site. As a result, please visit my ficlets page and perhaps you’ll be inspired to write a prequel or sequel to one of my wibblings.

This filk has been kicking around in my head for some time. I recently took the time to gather some info about the Dmitry Sklyarov case and formed this little ditty.

Three weeks in a Las Vegas jail
For this software, for this software.
Fifty thousand dollar bail
For this software, for this software.

And everybody thinks;
That I’m the fool.
But they can’t read
Any docs from you.

The things we won’t do for docs?
I’d climb a mountain if I had to;
And risk my life so I could read you.
You, you, you…

Every day I’m psychoanalysed
For this software, for this software.
They dope me up and I tell them lies
For this software, for this software

I follow my heart;
And leave my head to ponder,
Deep in these docs
No man can read.
I follow my heart;
And leave my mind to wonder,
Are these docs worth
The sacrifices I make?

A while ago, I ended up using the term ‘drug fucked narcissistic megabitch gymbunny’ in a conversation about gay stereotypes and how I obviously fit them all so perfectly. Those words got jotted down in my “words” file where I keep interesting words or phrases which trigger a desire to write.

Here’s what poured out of my fingers when I let them ruminate on the above phrase for a few minutes…

It was early morning. Scrabbling madly within his pocket, his shaking fingers finally grasped the errant key. Slowly, painstakingly, the key was inserted and turned. The front door swung open, creaking as though in protest at the late hour of its use. He raised his aching red eyes to the mirror opposite the front door. 'Why oh why did I put that there' he lamented as he gazed distainfully at the visage which greeted him. 'Drug-fucked narcissistic megabitch gymbunny' he thought, 'Yep, about right'.

With apologies to Garbage, and with sniggers at Mark Hymers, I hereby present the latest techfilk from my perverted mind.

GNU Make is not enough

I know how to ant
I know how to scons
I know what to cook
And what to jam
I know when to imake
And I know when to myke
No one ever died from building too much

GNU Make is not enough
But it is such a perfect place to start, my love
And if you're strong enough
Together we can make the world again, my love

People like us
Know how to build code
There's no point in coding
If you can't build the app
We know when to fork()
And we know when to kill()
If we can't build it all
Then nobody will

GNU Make is not enough
But it is such a perfect place to start, my love
And if you're strong enough
Together we can make the world again, my love

I...i feel sick
I...i feel scared
I...i feel ready
And yet unprepared

GNU Make is not enough
But it is such a perfect place to start, my love
And if you're strong enough
Together we can make the world again, my love

GNU Make is not enough
GNU Make is not enough

…Apologies to Genesis

Code with me,
My friend I hope you’ll always be
Right here by my side if ever I need you
Oh my friend

With your tests,
I feel so safe and so secure
Every task is such a perfect joy to code
Along with you

I will code with you, will you test for me,
All the code and tests that we know will be
I will code with you, will you test with me
Just to do your best with each passing test.

Gee, Dee, Bee
Oh I see so very clearly now
All my bugs are drifting by me so slowly now
Fading away

I can see
The code is bad but you are here
Close at hand, oh I’m better for the fix you give
And while I live

I will code with you, will you test for me,
All the code and tests that we know will be
I will code with you, will you test with me
Just to do your best with each passing test.

I will code with you, will you test for me,
All the code and tests that we know will be
I will code with you, will you test with me
Just to do your best with each passing test.

If software bugs/issues had free-will and a personality then what would they sing?

(With apologies, although I’m not certain she deserves them, to Céline Dion)

Paste me, back into the func I break
Leave me, like you did before
Have late nights once again
And remember when
There was no bug that you hated more

Don’t go, you know you’ll find more bugs
They won’t irk you like I will
I’m the one who’ll stay
When they go away
And you know I’ll be lurking here still

I’ll be waiting for you
here inside the code
I’m the one who wants to vex you more
You will see I can give you
Migraines by the ton
Let me be the one to vex you more

See me as if you never knew
Hate me so you can’t let go
Just believe in me
I will make you see
All the problems you’d never have known

I’ll be waiting for you
here inside the code
I’m the one who wants to vex you more
You will see I can give you
Migraines by the ton
Let me be the one to vex you more

And some way, all the code that you had can be saved
Whatever it takes you’ll find a way

I’ll be waiting for you
here inside the code
I’m the one who wants to vex you more
You will see I can give you
Migraines by the ton
Let me be the one to vex you more

…With apologies to Skunk Anansie

How can your face be so angry?
When all you’re doing is looking at code.
You chastise me for my bad software
It’s gonna last too long.

What to do now but refactor?
All those unit tests you tried to write.
This code will never be covered.
Gonna last too long.

You’re still a fuck up
You’re still a fuck up
You’re still a fuck up, with bugs.

You know, Lucifer cried when you wrote that line.
And the heavens rained down on your sloppy code.
What’s left now that’s not tested,
Shouldn’t last too long.

Naaa, naaa, na na na na naaa naaa.

It feels, so, slow
And it looks, so, shit
But it’s all the same,
It is all the same,
What a crock!

And I believe this is checked nowhere.
Maybe there are tests,
But they’re rarely used.
Every bug’s hard to discover.
And they last.. Too.. Long….

You’re still a fuck up
You’re still a fuck up
You’re still a fuck up, with bugs.

…Apologies to the Pet Shop Boys

Another night, with failing tests
Too late to sleep, you just can’t rest
You’re short of breath, is it a heart attack?
Hot and feverish you face the fact

You’re reviewed, and it feels like shame
Because they’ve gone and made a fool of you in public again
You’re reviewed, and it feels like pain
Because you know there’s too much truth in everything they claim

So ask yourself now: Can you deliver
What they want you to?
Ask yourself: Can you even consider
Deploying this code?

You drift into the strangest memes
List comprehensions, and bad idioms,
Admit you’re wrong, oh, no, not yet
Then you wake up and remember that you can’t forget

They made you some kind of laughing stock
Because you don’t write OO, and your code don’t rock
They make fun, and not just in their heads
Said they were gonna go and write themselves some real code instead

So ask yourself now: Can you deliver
If they beg you to?
Ask yourself: Can you even consider
Deploying this code?
Or do you want to hack?
But that’s childish, so childish!
(But that’s childish, so childish!)

Remember when you were more easily led
With DB objects all in your head
Trembling as your dreams came true
You looked right into that old code and knew

It was shit, and now you can’t pretend
You’ve forgotten all the lessons and what they portend
It’s bad enough, they know how you code
But they’re not prepared recognise the things it bodes.

So ask yourself now: Can you deliver
If they beg you to?
Ask yourself: Can you even consider
Deploying this code?
Ask yourself now: Can you deliver
If they beg you to?
And ask yourself: Can you even consider
Deploying this code?
Or do you want to hack?
But that’s childish, so childish!

…Don’t know when I’ll be back again.

Once again my work demands that I jet off to foreign parts. In this instance to Montréal for Ubuntu Below Zero where I shall be partaking of much geekery, card playing, RHPS viewing/participating and, I suppose, a certain amount of work.

This time, as a parting shot^Wgift I offer you the first rough-cut of “Je m’en vais sur un avion” as murdered^Wtranslated by myself and teh_nattie one sorry evening after much curry.

Je m'en vais sur un avion

Mes valises sont remplis, je suis prêt Devant ta porte je me mets, Il ne me plaît pas de te réveille. Mais l’aurore vient, le matin tôt, Le taxi attend, klaxonnant, Déjà suis-je si seul que je pourrais mourir. Donc bise moi, sourire pour moi, Dis moi que tu m’attendras, Tiens-moi comme tu ne me laisse jamais partir. Car je m’en vais sur un avion, Sais-pas quand je retournerai, Oh chérie, comme j’haïsse partir. Il-y-a tant de fois que j’t’ai déçu, Tant de fois que j’ai triché, Je te dis que cela n’a rien a dire. N’importe ou je vais, je pense a toi, Chaque chanson que je chante, je chante pour toi, Quand je reviens je porterai ton anneau. Donc bise moi, sourire pour moi, Dis moi que tu m’attendras, Tiens-moi comme tu ne me laisse jamais partir.

Car je m’en vais sur un avion, Sais-pas quand je retournerai, Oh chérie, comme j’haïsse partir. Maintenant c’est l’heure de te laisser, Encore un fois, oh, laisse-moi t’embrasser, Et ferme tes yeux, et je m’en irai. Rêve donc aux jours qui suivent, Pendant que je ne dois partir tout seul, Et de quand il ne me faudra jamais dire. Donc bise moi, sourire pour moi, Dis moi que tu m’attendras, Tiens-moi comme tu ne me laisse jamais partir. Car je m’en vais sur un avion, Sais-pas quand je retournerai, Oh chérie, comme j’haïsse partir. Et je m’en vais sur un avion, Sais-pas quand je retournerai, Oh chérie, comme j’haïsse partir.

This morning I was struck by the similarity between the words ‘ichor’ and ‘ichthus’—One a symbol of the christian faith, the other a thin, acrid, watery discharge from an ulcer or wound.

Words never cease to amuse me.

Last night, stargirl mentioned that my previous posting was very similar to some of the structures devised by people following the Oulipo styles.

These guys seem to have done some very interesting things with structured and specifically restricted writing styles in the 1960s and on from then. If my last posting interested you in the least then I recommend that you go and read around the topic of the Oulipo. It seems rather fun and interesting.

A while ago I discussed with a friend the possibility of using the words from a song to form the framework of a structured piece of creative writing. We settled on the following set of instructions:

• Take a song you particularly like. Take enough of the lyrics to encapsulate a sequence of five or six snippets of story with lyrics between them.
• Each snippet of story must be 100 words long; not a word more and not a word less.
• The song must entirely bracket the story (I.E. lyrics at the start and at the end).
• The story doesn't have to be about the song or indeed related to it; but the two must work as a single intertwined entity.
• Each snippet must be told from a different point of view. You may use an impersonal narrative as one of them.

My first attempt at the genre is entitled “How wonderful life is.” and I encourage you to read it and I hope it inspires you to have a go yourself.