QuodRod LIVES

Computer-building feels like it's an art

More than a science. I am Frankenstein

And monster both. Today I chose to start

A-using it, this thing I've built; it's fine

But has some flaws yet. First of all, no sound,

Though I know what to do when next I'm free

To play with it some more, to fool around

With parts and drivers. More importantly

It works for writing, as this sonnet shows,

The premiere composition on the beast.

Now, though, my houseguests beckon. So it goes.

It's almost time to drink, scarf down a feast

And plan tomorrow's outings. So, adieu,

E'en though I've yet some tinkering to do.

In Which I Gloat Over A Partial Success And Reflect On The Character Flaw It Revealed

Were I as patient with my fellow man

As I am with a motherboard, some screws,

A graphics card, a processor, a fan

(Or three), it's very possible I'd choose

To be a social worker. As it is,

Deep breathing only and a will to try

Again when tiny screws were dropped -- such biz

As this and only this sufficed. Oh my,

I won't say it was easy; I've not built

A PC since the early nineties. Plus,

'Tis far from over yet. All still could tilt

When I first turn it on and have to fuss

With BIOS settings, for, you see, I will

Be making this a Hackintosh. The thrill!