Efficiency is Independence
I'm a retired architect building systems that don't need "Big Tech" permission to exist. I run a full web presence, mail stack, and security layer for a dozen users on 1GB of RAM. No Docker. No bloat. No bullshit.
The Engineering Repositories
The Artist's Gallery & Manuscripts
Painting
Scarlet Shadow~2015 • Acrylic on Canvas
This acrylic on canvas piece explores the "Chiaroscuro" effect—the use of strong contrasts between light and dark to affect a whole composition. While the subject matter is provocative, the technical execution emphasizes the anatomical shadows created by the pose. The cross-hatched texture of the...
Manuscript
bangGenre: Speculative Fiction
The Cyclical and Infinite Universe of Localized Energetic Releases Dan Carpenter The universe is infinite in both space and time.
Within this vast, enduring expanse, what is often perceived as a singular beginning and subsequent expansion is actually a localized energetic release.
This model suggests a continuous cycle driven by the inevitable gravitational mergers of massive objects, particularly black holes and their remnants, within regions that have reached a state of localized quiet.
The...
Within this vast, enduring expanse, what is often perceived as a singular beginning and subsequent expansion is actually a localized energetic release.
This model suggests a continuous cycle driven by the inevitable gravitational mergers of massive objects, particularly black holes and their remnants, within regions that have reached a state of localized quiet.
The...
Poetry
Prologue To The University Of Oxford.by John Dryden
Though actors cannot much of learning boast, Of all who want it, we admire it most: We love the praises of a learned pit, As we remotely are allied to wit. We speak our poet's wit, and trade in ore, Like those who touch upon the golden shore: Betwixt our judges can destinction make, Discern how much, and why, our poems take: Mark if the fools, or men of sense, rejoice; Whether the applause be only sound or voice. When our fop gallants, or our city folly, Clap over-loud, it makes us melancholy...