-
The Mirror 4
No one ever followed the old woman in black as she tottered away from the town center. Just a crazy old woman, of course, so who would give her a second thought? And not only that, but even though she was seldom noticed, there was something about her that made people just a bit uncomfortable.… Continue reading
-
The Mirror 3
Europe, 1795 The tiny old figure, clad completely in tattered black sackcloth, had become a familiar figure around certain parts of town. She tottered unsteadily about, never speaking, unspoken to, and because of her thick black veil, unrecognized. Most people didn’t spare her a second glance, thinking that she must be from a gypsy wagon… Continue reading
-
The Mirror 2
Navigating the cave became more difficult, and the men struggled to move the heavy chest along through the rocks. “How much farther,” muttered one, panting with effort. “More,” replied another. “Easier for those lending only one hand,” said the first, as the leader held the torch with one hand and could only spare the other… Continue reading
-
The Mirror 1
Europe, 1623. There were cries of alarm, shouts as men tried to organized themselves, and above all the roar of the blazing fire. The cathedral, by far the largest structure in the village, was ablaze. Had been set ablaze. The flames brightened the night throughout the village, even as far as its edge, where a… Continue reading
-
Yarely
Alfred Tennyson is usually referred to as “Alfred, Lord Tennyson”. He was Poet Laureate of England from 1850 to 1892, the longest stretch anyone occupied the position before or since. He wrote The Charge of the Light Brigade, which is pretty well known, but not very much of his other work is still read. He… Continue reading
-
A Rhematic Interlude
You can get a pretty good idea of the functions of a language by examining its words. This is more than that old saw about “Eskimo having 27 words for ‘snow’.” That was probably apocryphal anyway, but I’m not just talking about nouns. The nouns in a language do, of course, give some insight into… Continue reading
-
Acrophonic
When it’s time to teach children the alphabet, in English it goes like this: you learn the names of the letters, then some words that start with those letters. “Ae,” “bee,” cee,” and so on are what English letters are called, of course. Made-up words that generally don’t mean anything else. Learning the alphabet in… Continue reading
About Me
I’m Pete Harbeson, a writer (among other things) located near Boston, Massachusetts. In addition to writing my own content, I’ve learned to translate for my loquacious and opinionated pup Chocolate Bossypaws. No surprise, she mostly speaks in doggerel. You can find her contributions tagged with Chocolatiana.
Check out my newsletter, Artisanal Scribbles, where I’m grappling with writing, authentic human authorship, integrity, and the craft of beauty in the AI age. You can also find some of my old software projects at GitHub. Nothing very impressive. I mostly wrote tiny utilities in Python and shell scripts. I’m mostly retired from coding nowadays.
I find myself suddenly de-corporatized (their choice, not mine). To help keep the lights on, buy me a coffee!
Recent Posts
- Hang on, I’m busy
- Sometimes it’s not an improvement
- Do not call your friend…
- Once more, into the breach
- Be Here Now. And Sit.
Categories
Artificial Intelligence
Chocolatiana
Essays
History, sort of
Immorality
Incompetence
Quotations
Resistance
Stories
Tales from the Forest
Technicalities
Tragedy
Unanticipated Consequences
Privacy policy
No trackers, no ads, no data collected or saved.
Contact
peterharbeson@me.com