My apparently undiagnosed masochism has inspired me to switch keyboard layouts. Aiming for pure obscurity, I’ve been typing using Colemak for the past several months. It’s no Dvorak in the popularity arena, having only an estimated userbase of 3000 as of January 2009. According to a computer aided layout optimizer, it’s also more efficient than the venerable Dvorak, ranking highly across all alternatives. Note that all statistics for Qwerty are hideous by comparison.

“It is a war, you know. The worst kind,” said the old man. The youth stared at him and shook his head. “There you go again. What is it this time?” He paused in thought for a moment. “I seen pictures of World War II, man. But now you gonna tell me somethin’ out there is worse than a whole mess ‘o dudes in a church with no arms and legs.

Introduction In the decade I’ve experimented with cell phones, I have never owned a Samsung. One way or another, every time it was time to upgrade, it was Kyocera, LG, or Motorola which had better reception, a better interface, or some other functionality Samsung didn’t. Indeed, my last two phones were the Motorola RAZR v3c, and the Motorola RIZR Z6tv. Back then, my primary focus was reception and battery life. I still want these things, but my level of texting has risen to a point where I needed a keyboard, and virtual keyboards are, by and large, infuriating.

What is this darkness? Can I see it, in this blackness full of light? A dawn of wonder crying softly all the while. For in those dreams of succor, there stands an empty hollow, a haunting, callow dread upon his smile. And in that thunder of the sky which has ripped apart our souls, we lay broken on the shores of destined fate. And there’s no rest, and no release, from the torment looming here, madly thrumming in the aether like a shiver through our spines.

Fly in the darkness, fry in the light, sup upon the simple while it dances in the night. In dips and wander, tell and fall, let the cries echo through the gallows in the hall. So right, so raw, but thick undone, those fresh and callow, so calm begun. But while and willow, these fawns of one, they trip and tremble, through webs once spun. In times far broken, and worse for wear, it once was spoken, no time to spare.