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A kind friend recently remarked that I write in a universal voice. That is true, albeit not by conscious intent, although it allows me to have a journal that is both public and personal without falling to the superficial culture with its self-indulgence and sycophancy. Instead, I prefer to take those selective slices of the classics which have accessible meaning and relevance: "Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto" ("I am human and nothing human in alien to me", Publius Terentius Afer). It does serve a challege to us all - are we capable of truly understanding the experiences of others or, to quote Conrad (and nicely adopted by the punk-funk group "The Gang of Four"), do we live, as we dream, alone? Our existential experiences: life, love, hope, guilt, fear, sickness, death, shared by all but in very different degrees and often, we can express with sadness, wickedly imposed by people upon others.

The past few days, I have been struck by a minor malaise. In my convalescence, however, I thought about how even a minor illness can be so disruptive. "This sickness does infect the very life-blood of our enterprise", said Shakespeare (Henry IV, Part I). As a busy person, I was frustrated by a number of events that had to be cancelled or modified. A Chinese arts and culture delegation from Shenzen had to be guided through the National Gallery by the Vice-President of the ACFS instead of myself. An HPC presentation to research team leaders at work had to be handballed, and other meetings were cancelled, and, alas, dinner and other social plans with friends also suffered this fate. Operational work, research essays, and studies have likewise been delayed. Needless to say, my usual fitness regimen had been suspended as well.

The only way to deal with such illnesses is rest and nutrition, followed by gradual recuperation. In this regard, I have been truly blessed by the presence of Kate R., who put her professional nursing skills to good use for this patient. As for the feeling of frustration, that is often resolved by shifting focus to something that one can control. Even in a semi-delirious state, I managed to work my way through the new Duolingo chess skill tree, along with keeping up with Spanish lessons. However, most of my sparse waking time was spent in passive entertainment in the form of the series "Arrested Development". I first encountered this show almost twenty years ago and, despite a few efforts, I'd hitherto never even managed to complete the first season. The hilariously dysfunctional family with its internecine manipulations and suspicions suits my absurd and ironic sense of humour: "there's always money in the banana stand".
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Earlier this year that I missed the company sponsored 'flu shot whilst attending a First Aid re-certification. Amusing in itself on Sunday irony, that most uncanny of guests, came knocking on the door and knocked me down with the 'flu - and those who have had the 'flu know the difference between it and a cold. For the next three days I was laid out flat with a pounding headache that was the equivalent of the worst possible hangover, but without the pleasure of prior inebriation. Still, after many doses of codeine, pseudoephedrine, and some thirty litres of water, I've come up fine except an annoyingly phlegmy cough. Still, a much better state that some friends I could mention, and certainly a lot better those who've been hit by the rising ebola outbreak or for that matter the frustratingly predictable health crisis in Timor Leste.

During the past week my hosting provider locked me out of one of my own sites due to a number of unsuccessful logins (over an undisclosed period of time, despite requests). When they restored the service, the email accounts were missing; they were only restored after I gave a few hints on what could be wrong. Multiple members of their helpdesk staff suggested that my mail could be hosted by someone else - without even bothering to check the MX records. When the email accounts could finally be re-established it managed to delete the mail directory for the relevant addresses. The helpdesk staff helpfully suggested restoring a directory (at a $150 charge) which had nothing to do with the missing mail. Finally they acceded to my demands to restore the specific directory that I was after. All mail finally recovered; that only took over a week. No, Net Registry, that was not a pleasant experience and after many years of service provision I'm afraid I'll be going elsewhere.

In the mid-90s I spent some time with the Sydney-based Clan Analogue and the famous Lanfranchi's warehouse of the Evil Brotherhood of Mutants. But it is not that clan analogue I am referring to. Rather it was the thoughts that ran through my mind at the time, of a future where a handful of die-hards held on to a collection of vinyl and turntables. Well, I was asked recently at work whether I owned a turntable. "Maybe", I replied accurately as it just so happened that I had purchased a Sony PS-LX47P (not exactly a top-line model) that day which was delivered today which, by pure luck, is exactly the model which fits my amplifier and the rest of the system (I love Sony's hardware, it's their IP lawyers I want to shoot). As a result I've been loving the sounds of my modest vinyl collection once again. Every hiss and crackle has its own story. Like the difference between people and robots, it is those glorious imperfections that give the sound added character and beauty. There is much to be said for digital; but I will always still love to visit the land of clan analogue.
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Almost completely recovered from the cellulitis skin infection referred to in the last post. A hefty and regular dose of a broad-spectrum antibiotic (cephalexin, to be exact) has done its job, although a repeat script and a script for skin dryness (betamethasone) did also require the visit to a second doctor near RMIT; an excellent individual who always manages to quickly provide alternative or additional diagnoses with accuracy (same chap who pointed out that my throat infection last year was viral, not bacterial). Whilst relatively uninfected (except for the inevitable mycoplasma), Riff-Rat the rat is looking and feeling quite old, barely able to hobble along with his dodgy back legs. Nevertheless, he's still enjoying a spot of sunlight with his old friend Mac the cat.

Last Saturday evening attended two high-rise social gatherings. The first was a modernist monstrosity, being the rooftop opening of Eden On The River, which nevertheless did include some good conversation with local Willsmere friends and some pretty spectacular views of how the old landed money of neighbouring Kew can still have vineyards a mere 4km from the CBD. The second elevated gathering was great surprise party hosted by [livejournal.com profile] txxxpxx for [livejournal.com profile] usekh. Spent much of the evening chatting with [livejournal.com profile] kits_the_dm, [livejournal.com profile] a_carnal_mink, and [livejournal.com profile] strang_er, along with aforementioned host and honoured person. Joked with host about how their apartment has a balcony longer and wider than a certain house when I lived in North Carlton. The view (pinched from TPs FB) is quite a delight.

On Sunday attended convened the Philosophy Forum and presented with a talk on dialectics. Of the opinion that dialectics has good utility in argmentation analysis, but shouldn't be used in the physical sciences except as a heuristic or post-hoc explanation. Verification and falsification are far superior methods of rational analysis; plus they don't come with the totalitarian political expediency of historicism. As part of the research discovered the detailed site of British Trotskyist who is anti-dialectics, and much more so than myself. In other intellectual adventures, sat the exam for Facilitating Lifelong Learning today, which allowed some notes to be taken in. It was a rather weird assessment method, and I felt somewhat at odds with the course content. Nevertheless, feeling reasonably confident that I've done well.

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Diary of a B+ Grade Polymath

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