Managing time is a pivotal question for the young human who wants to flow into the stream of the trends, lead a virtuous and knowledgeful existence or just indulge in personal pleasures.
The problem of finding as much free time as possible, after having worked, slept, eaten or purged, arises furiously each and every day.

The forementioned youngster encounters many hurdles in reaching this goal, obviously I'm talking about the dozens of tedious daily tasks that clustered together build up to an obnoxious amount of time which is unpaid, poorly recreational and by no means creative, merely aimed at the maintenance of a status that not only does not evolve, but seems to require more efforts the further you go on.

sweep, work out, clean the hard-drive, shave, replace the dehumidifying salts, upgrade software, fill the tank, print out modules, delete spam, shower, pigeonhole the letters, go to the chemistry, cut the nails, face cream, hand cream, pour from container A to container B, jala-neti, oral higene, prepair the sack, stretch, swallow vitamins, check weather forecast, undo the sack...

the only solution practically feasable would be to absentmind myself(*). but the idea of training the blurring of my own consciousness in aberrant to say the least, unless we want to consider it a new goal: to take the level of awareness to a higher refinement.

(*)I mean reflect constructively during the completion of these treacherous activities.

after a glance I recon that a thorough cleaning of the PC would be better than the usual dust blow with compressed air... one detail that caught my attention is the thick dirt that has built up around the heatsink of the CPU.

This is the very heart of the computer... can I leave the thing as it is, for what's infesting the precious component has nothing left of normal dust? Ok, let's proceed.

After unplugging the fan power connector, I disengage the ritention levers, separate the base, ... grab the heatsink and though slightly marveled in meeting some resistance, I pull to lift it.
Dismay! where the hell the microprocessor go? there's just an empty socket down there...

oh shyte!
For some reason, the CPU remained attached to the heatsink and I've extracted it from the socket with the security level still down. And while I'm trying to detach the unfaithful chip seamlessly united with the plate, just while asking myself how on earth this could even be possible... my beloved Pentium 4, trusted companion of uncountable hours of computational torment and delight, suddenly comes off and falls, clashing on the memory banks. Impotent I witness the scene, like in slow motion, and as Murphy's Law predicts on the side where the pins are.

I lack the courage to watch... the horror! some of the pins (my sight has just lowered and I can't be more precise) had bent in the impact. The CPU won't fit in the socket no more.

How did this story end? Quite well! Thanks to my proverbial watchmaker precision I straightened the bent pins with my nails and re-assembled everything. and it works!
remember this lesson, kids. Sleep tight!

hall of the mountain grill
Hall of the Mountain Grill (Hawkwind 1974)

They knew that a cover isn't just packaging. It's complemental, it's an added value... following in the footsteps of other fellows artists, Hawkwind shook an artistic collaboration with a graphic designer.Barney Bubbles realized marvels for the english space-rock band but the illustration made for their fouth album "Hall of the Mountain Grill" (1974) is nothing but sublime, evocative, futurist, marked with the ineffable sign of classic science fiction and makes perfect coupling with the musical content.

Fascinations, space sagas spring from the derelict laid into the misty alien lagoon, filled with mistery but majestic and impressive at the same time, proud testimony of remote space battles, faded by uncountable centuries along with the reasons that triggered them, the remains of a spaceship abandoned in a foreign world, forsaken, only the echos of the lifes that fought on board still evaporate through the wrecks, saluting the flag still blazing on the hull.

The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts. Bertrand Russel said it, and I quote.
Old Far West must have been a real shit hole. Forget filling your lungs with breaths of freedom at dawn and trying invane to embrace the boundaries of the vast prairie... it's a fortune not to be born there.
I would have had very little time to indulge with my cerebro-jerking, unlike now.

True Grit (2010, by Joel e Ethan Coen) is a bit overhyped these days but in the end it's a fair good movie. A Western tail, cruel as the west could be, that the Coen brothers pack together with proven mastery along with some cliches that we accept because - I kind'a suspect - they could be the very bonding element of the movie. But as I said before: it's a western movie...
The King of Limbs (2011) is the new Radiohead release. I remember scaling them back a bit while I was introducing myself to the krautrock of the 70s, but a new album from them is one of those occasions when buddah transcends his body so I pay for a legit download. The first listenings were merely some king of indirect assimilation, absent-minded, more physiological than intellectual. Eventually the dough will sound vagualy familiar. Tom Yorke is turning his ship towards a lesser popular (and memorable) kind of music but still intriguing nevertheless. Thank god.


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