Posts tagged “dead”.
As I reported yesterday, the MessagePad 110 is on the fritz. I’m going to check the battery strength and see if my rechargeables are dead – it seems to be the most obvious answer to why my Newton suddenly blinked out yesterday morning.
Meanwhile, some fun stuff from Lifehacker.com, one of my favorite blogs.
Breathe new life into your old gadgets. This is a great article on how to revive your old iPod or computer long after the “usefulness” date has passed. I like stuff like this because, as a Newton user, I use something that’s expiration date came a long time ago. If it weren’t for this recent outage, you’d be reading some Christmas carols from an “obsolete” PDA.
If push comes to shove, this might be a good time to delve into the Newton mailing list I subscribed to a while back. That, or shop for a 2100 on eBay.
If you have any idea about what happened to my 110, or if something similar happened to yours, be sure to let me know. I’d love any help I can get.
Bad news come early today.
Midway through transcribing “O Holy Night,” right at the “Oh night when Christ was born” part, my Newton completely blipped out.
And first I thought it was just the sleep mode activating. But I tried turning it back on, and a long, vertical black line flashed on the screen, then nothing.
Don’t know what’s the deal, but I’ll just let it sit for the day and work itself out. I don’t need this right now, and frankly the MessagePad doesn’t need it either. It was going to go through a serious run of Christmas carols before the weekend. Now it sits, lifeless.
More news as it becomes available.
by William Shakespeare
Thut time of year thou mnyst in me behold
When yellow lenues, or none, or few, do hung
Upon those boughs which sbuke nquinst thu cold,
Bore ruined choirs where lute the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’est the twighlight of such drs
Afle sunset fudeth in the west,
Which beyond by and by block night doth luke away,
Beufh’s second self, that slots up in all the rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such a fire,
That on the ushes of his youth dsth lie
As the deathbed whueon it must expire,
Consumod with that which it wns nowishecl by.
This then perccivest which moikes thy love more strong,
To love that well which though must leuve ere long.
[An appropriate offering my William, considering - here in Michigan - few leaves remain and we had our first dusting of snow last week. Read the original sonnet.]
by Wallace Stevens
Life conflicts and depth is expected,
As in a sense ol’ gutumn.
The soldier fqlls.
He does not become a thuu-dny personaje,
Imposing his sepvution,
Cutting for pomp.
Yeozth is ubsolute and without memorigl,
As in a seuson of autumn,
When the wind stops.
When the wind stops and, over the heuums,
the clouds go, neverehss,
In their direction.