most things exist because somebody fought for them
against somebody who fought against them and lost.
criteria are not god-given, they’re man-made.
十 tō. ten.
十字 jūji. cross.
March 5, 1975. A cold and drizzly evening in Menlo Park, California. Thirty unprepossessing-looking engineers gather in the garage of an unemployed colleague. They call themselves the Homebrew Computer Club, and this is their first meeting. The garage is drafty, but the engineers leave the doors open to the damp night air so people can wander inside.
In walks an uncertain young man of twenty-four, a calculator designer for Hewlett-Packard. Serious and bespectacled, he has shoulder-length hair and a brown beard. He’s been obsessed with electronics since the age of three; when he was eleven he came across a magazine article about the first computer, the ENIAC, and ever since his dream has been to build a machine so small and easy to use that you could keep it at home. He takes a chair and listens quietly as the others marvel over a new build-it-yourself computer called the Altair 8800, which recently made the cover of Popular Electronics.
As he’ll later recall in his memoir, the young man, whose name is Stephen Wozniak, is excited to be surrounded by kindred spirits. To the Homebrew crowd, computers are a tool for social justice, and he feels the same way. Not that he talks to anyone at this meeting — he’s way too shy for that.
Lately, the overall feeling I get when I think about my life
has shifted from unmotivated contentment to blind ire.
Nonetheless, my outward appearance has not changed.
I sit calmly with a Buddha-like smile, and I crave devastation.