More Blue Screen Haiku

Pixabay: TheDigitalArtist. Free for commercial use. No attribution required.

For those who remember computer blue screens and error messages that sent terror through your bones, here are some gentler error messages.

But they still deliver disaster.

A file that big?

It might be very useful.

But now it is gone.


Aborted effort: 

Close all that you have.

You ask way too much.


First snow, then silence.

This thousand-dollar screen dies

so beautifully.


Computer haiku.

Distills angst of those moments.

Our author unknown.

 

Photo source: TheDigitalArtist on Pixabay


 

Blue Screen of Death

Pixabay: Clker-Free-Vector-Images; Free for commercial us; no attribution required

I was going through files from a decade ago and found a collection of haiku poems that took computer problems—something that seems like a modern, human/technological issue—and transformed them into poems about the human condition. Given how frequently computer tragedies happened, the haiku writer was prolific.

I’ve no idea who wrote these, but for anyone who ever experienced a computer crash or got an error message about a missing file, you’ll relate.  I’ll serve up more later. Enjoy!

You step in the stream,

but the water has moved on.

This page is not here.


Serious error.

All shortcuts have disappeared.

Screen. Mind. Both are blank.


Windows NT crashed.

I am the Blue Screen of Death.

No one hears your screams.

 

Photo source: Clker-Free-Vector-Images on Pixabay


 

Dictated Voicemail Messages

53_Dictation_4-30-18

I’ve recently taken to using the dictation app on my phone to capture ideas when 1) I’ve no paper to write on, 2) no pen to write with or, 3) where taking both hands off the wheel isn’t a bright idea (like, ever).

Other than Siri sometimes deciding I meant something other than what I said, I like it.  It works best if I review the transcript sooner rather than later, because if too much time passes I can’t even begin to guess what I was thinking.  Or I can, but Siri’s interpretation was way more entertaining than the original.

Like this text message Siri transcribed for me, en-route to a friend’s house:

“I’m on my way. I’m at the intersection of Highway 12 and fucking. So probably 15 minutes. I have soup. And cornbread. Celibate.”

Siri is exhibiting her Freudian slips. Or cognitive dissonance. She clearly doesn’t know what she wants.

But despite these little kerfuffles, I’ve embraced dictating; and, it turns out, astonishingly, some new habits are easy to learn. Despite all the propaganda about habit-learning to the contrary, I quickly learned to tell Siri “period” and “new paragraph” and “question mark” as I dictated, to ensure she properly punctuated things as she wrote stuff up. Because, yes, punctuation matters.

The thing is, my dictation device–my phone–is also, well, a phone. I call people. They don’t answer. I go into voicemail. I leave a message by recording my voice on their device, and when my friend gets that message, they listen to my voice speaking my message.

And, because I’ve so easily adapted to dictating, my voice messages now include not only the substance of my call, but a meta-message: instructions for periods and question marks and paragraphs.

Which will be very helpful comma should my friends decide they want to transcribe my voicemail period

 

Daily Post-Prompt: Astonish