The HND Years of Digital Exploration – ARCHIVE Pt1 – Video

This is why I’m loving having a blog! 🙂 (it’s taken 15 years)

Digging around in attics and sheds to fire up the old external CD drive hidden in the attic, then searching franticly for the bloody power lead (painful), dig out an old box from the out-house (stored incase of fire obviously?!) and then finally routing in the near 15 year old treasure chest littered with old (but well stored) Compact Disk Back Ups. Eh! There’s a novelty.. a CD bloody back up! haha…

It suddenly dawns on you how many fricking hours and hours I had wasted burning, copying, uploading etc. to the dam things. Now everythings on a microchip, portable and huuuuuuuuuge storage compared to what they used to be. Christ! They were never like the old faithful cassette were they?

Anyway… I hereby upload the very first of my own personal archive. I made this movie in the year 2000. Yes, 2000! It’s 320x240px in size, because anything more back then and it would take a month to render and another one to export it. Let’s not forget uploading video onto the web, god that took forever on dail-up.

I found a screen shot from when I did the audio. Look at this:

Picture-1

I even left the old ‘Picture-1’ as the file name! OS9! How times have changed man! I remember the big upgrade to OSX… and the immediate crash of everything… followed very swiftly by OSX1.01 or whatever it was hahaa, pretty sure that was 2001. God… I feel old now. Well, wiser actually, screw old!

Then we have the CD cover:

trench

No flipping wonder they always printed at the worst quality ever, look how small it is! I now recall actually measuring a CD case for the dimensions, knowing absolutely jack shit about printing in those days. Brilliant.

Here is a copy of the poem by Walter S. Lyon:

‘I Tracked A Dead Man Down A Trench’

I tracked a dead man down a trench,
I knew not he was dead.
They told me he had gone that way,
And there his foot-marks led.
The trench was long and close and curved,
It seemed without an end;
And as I threaded each new bay
I thought to see my friend.

At last I saw his back. He crouched
As still as still could be,
And when I called his name aloud
He did not answer me.

The floor-way of the trench was wet
Where he was crouching dead;
The water of the pool was brown,
And round him it was red.

I stole up softly where he stayed
With head hung down all slack,
And on his shoulders laid my hands
And drew him gently back.

And then, as I had guessed, I saw
His head, and how the crown –
I saw then why he crouched so still,
And why his head hung down.

Note: I didn’t actually choose this poem, it was drawn out of a hat!

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