nowadays i dont
really feel alive
just blending day to day
fuck around to pass the time
sitting on my hands, eating
snacks watching tv.
waiting for a change
pray an angel comes to lift me
maybe this is penance
yeah, the cost of all the sinning
all pointing to the night
when you did some heavy drinking.
bottle to your lips
knife at the wrist
her essence in your head
you can't recall her voice
but you recant the promises

chant them like a cultist
while you watch the silver dance
and your press to the beat
of your alcoholic pants
sweat fills your hair
haze fills the mind
love, pain, and anger
made your soul unwind
now it lays there,
exposed to open air
only to be trampled on
by those who should be there
in a spot of rage you
threw the knife into the floor
rose from your chair and
opened up the closet door
only to write in red upon the white
"STOP ME" in bold, what foresight

you whip your head around
try to shake the thoughts out
you can't recall her face,
now an obscure grey cloud
that radiates depression
makes you feel alone
spent years with a person
they can't once pick up the phone
spent years with a person
yet you can't recall her voice
we said we loved us to death
i'm finding truth in that choice
you've suffered spring and summer
now you're heading for the fall
you look about your broken mind
god-damn it all
you thought you'd built a home
you were in it for the haul
appalled it's all dissolved
your heart it calls for more resolve
you miss her love, your home, your dog
you drove your car into a wall.

.

.

.

.

bones fractured top to bottom
are the mind manifest
codeine sponsored dreams of
laying your head on her chest
instead you feel a tightness on your neck
and this ringing in your head
you've got a neck brace, your mom's here,
you're in a hospital bed.
what's your name, and your birthday,
perfect sir, where are you at?
another nurse coming through
to make sure my mind is still intact
rib cracked, pelvic fracture, hooked
up to an iv and a piss-bag
you wore a seat belt and dont know
if that's something to thank god for
or be pissed at
isn't this the kind of story
that you wanted after all?
just to be so down and broken
hope someone saved you from the fall
have someone to hold you, stroke your hair
and tell you you can beat it all
needing that, having a lack thereof
you drove your car into a wall.

I've finally finished writing something. It's been about four years since I actually finished something nicely.

I'm entering the editing phase, which generally takes longer... But I'm a bit excited.

Hopefully this is an acceptable thing to talk about, and I'm going about things the right way.

So... To spin off into discussion, here's two things:

A part of the story:

The ground rose up and struck Raul in the face.

He blinked, stumbling backwards, seeing his master standing nearby.

The old man was glaring, his hands clutched around a brightly coloured stone.

Raul opened his mouth to question, but the old man was whisked away to a distance hillside, and the boy found himself tumbling head over heals backwards down a hillside.

He scrambled onto his knees, staring as he found himself on the shore of the lighthouse.

His master placed a solid hand on his shoulder, and muttered gibberish.

Raul glanced up, but found himself staring at the light of the lighthouse.

Spinning.

A bright light, round and round.

Lightning struck him, and Raul screamed, stumbling backwards.

The rod lay in front of him.

He tore his gaze away with effort, and saw his master, hands outstretched, the stone of red, gold and silver floating between them.

Almost as astonishing, the stone was clean.

A hammer hit him between the eyes.

Raul found himself stumbling behind his father, watching as the old man struck stone, separated it, revealing the river of solid copper within it.

"Boy!"

I'm hoping I've got the grammar at least semi-right. My illness means I can forget words, or my brain can replace words at random with others that it thinks are related.

Any guidance or critique is welcome. (I'd give a bigger quote... But this is probably more than enough to discuss.)

The build script I'm using:

#!/bin/sh

set -e

if [ -z "$1" ]; then
  echo 'Please provide an output file name.' >&2
  exit 1
fi

tmp=$(mktemp)

echo 'Building...'

cat title.txt > "$tmp"
echo '' >> "$tmp"
cat LICENSE.md >> "$tmp"
echo '' >> "$tmp"
cat Prologue.md >> "$tmp"

for file in 0*.md; do
  echo '' >> "$tmp"
  cat "$file" >> "$tmp"
done

for file in 1*.md; do
  echo '' >> "$tmp"
  cat "$file" >> "$tmp"
done

echo 'Converting...'

pandoc --toc "$tmp" -o "$1" 2>/dev/null

rm "$tmp"

echo 'Done'

title.txt is basically just YAML markup for pandoc. The other files should be fairly obvious.

I'm silencing pandoc's output, because I make use of a self-reference to add comments to the Markdown, that get killed by the parser and never make it to the output:

[//]: # (This is a Markdown comment. Isn't that cool?)

However, as all the references point to themselves, pandoc warns.

I'm using pandoc this time around, because it produces fairly clean files. I've used GitBook and Calibre in the past, and though the ebooks they produce work and look okay, the amount of crazy markup they produce means the books lag on some ereaders.

However, that does make a lot of back and forth. Building, checking output, rebuilding, etc.

I flew to Ely, Minnesota in August with my friend Jared.

Hope the images work, I'll rehost if they don't.

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/IMG_2631.jpg

Me left, Jared right.

He takes a regular trip with his family into the Boundary Waters (BWCA) and my in-laws have a cabin on a BWCA lake. In order to avoid driving and to get some flying hours in, we took this tiny plane from Columbus, OH to Ely, MN.

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/flight-path.jpg

Red line is actual GPS route. Blue line is simply airport-to-airport route.

We were trying to avoid flying over large bodies of water because when you’re in a single engine airplane, you don’t have a lot of options besides swimming if your engine goes out (ours didn’t).

We meant to get fuel after Chicago but the day we were flying we had 30 (thirty!!!!) knot headwinds even low to the ground. It was stupidly impressive bad luck. So we had to stop in Gary, IN to grab some gas before heading up again.

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/IMG_2647.jpg

Gary, IN

After grabbing gas, we were off. We saw the Blue Angels parked on the north ramp of the airport as we were taking off but it was too late to grab a picture. Turned out they had a show over the Navy Pier in Chicago a little later in the morning.

We know because we flew through the TFR (before it activated).

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/IMG_2657-e1506799924440.jpg

Chicago, IL

We thought we only had about 15 minutes to get through the TFR which we thought we could barely make, but also thought if we’re going to get intercepted, would be pretty cool to get intercepted by the Blue Angels, then realized the time change to Central and that we had an extra hour still before the TFR went active. The Blue Angels did not intercept us.

Next we flew up towards Duluth. Still staying low because of the ridiculous headwinds, but that meant things were also super bumpy.

Jared puked for the first time ever in a small airplane. I always have a puke bag in the plane for emergencies but never expected to use it with two pilots on board.

So Jared pukes. The turbulence and motion wasn’t getting to me until then, but that puke-bile smell? Oh yeah. I could feel it.

The problem was that I only had one puke bag in the cockpit. If I had to hurl, it was going to be in the same bag Jared used earlier. Gross.

Furthermore, Jared told me point blank that if I hurled, he was going to need the bag back to go again.

Faced with the prospect of sharing a puke-bag and passing it back and forth, we decided to land and take a 45 minute break.

We felt better after taking off (and getting the back-up puke bag from the baggage compartment).

Anyway, here’s Duluth:

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/IMG_2675-e1506800330868.jpg

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/IMG_3147.jpg

After turning the corner at Duluth, we went along Minnesota’s North Shore to drop Jared off in Grand Marais.

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/IMG_2689-e1506800486520.jpg

Two-Harbors on the North Shore of Minnesota

Then finally, with the plane to myself, I flew over the Boundary Waters due west to land in Ely, MN.

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/IMG_2716.jpg

Somewhere in the BWCA between Grand Marais and Ely. Endless untouched nature.

Was a fun trip. 9.3 hours in the plane due to the ridiculous headwinds. I was super happy to get a burger on the ground.

bishop.

tw: death

i remember the day that they died.
you called me at work in the
middle of my shift shooken up,
you wailed and cried
you were hours away
divorce was on the horizon
your mother
she went to get the last of her things
brothers in tow, each under her wings
wanting to grab their toys, their cars,
living in an apartment, left the trampoline

the pool's mostly empty now, and green.

i was always taught that ghosts scream
that any haunted house is a broken record
out of a low-budget horror scene
blood on the walls, ripped at the seams,
what they never tell you in the movies
is that the real scare is going to the house
six months later and finding it empty

and silent.

all that's left is the memory of the violent
no one left to water the yard
grass is yellow, in the garden
wilted violets
and the paintings still hang on the walls.
the lamp is still there on the nightstand
the pots and pans are still in the kitchen
the paper is still on the desk
everything is still where it should be
every item right where it was left
except this sudden void in your soul
and the unending feeling of being depressed
and lost,

scared

a lost lamb in a land once shared
a home where you would draw or write
and now all that's left is light
flittering in through the windows
that just feels so out of place
paintings on the floor covering up
the holes where the bullets laid
open casket you broke down
at the sight of his little face

god what a fucking monster

two years now since the day you lost her
and i have no idea how you are.
i took it upon myself to watch over you, a foster
and hoped to show you real love after this imposter
came into your life and ripped it in pieces
with this targeted hatred and ceaseless screaming
god if i could go back in time.

even still now i wish to trade their lives for mine

even if it just meant another day,
maybe one last time for you to
share a smile or say goodbye
to make peace and hug your mom
or read harry potter to your brothers here
in person and not occasionally from beyond
the grave that plays that same god-fucking-forsaken
song as the house does when you visit.

silence.

why dont they play music in the graveyards.

why dont they play music in the graveyards.

This is just a fun little part of a story I put together a little while ago. Might go somewhere later, but probably not.

The symbols looking like: [^1] are footnote links. (Pandoc's format, a kind of extended Markdown).

Edit: It may be easy to read as rendered html

A leaf was slowly falling towards their face.

It was golden, three-tongued, and burning with fire.

Last one wasn't hyperbole.

Unfortunately.

It was all sort of their fault.

But then, everything always was.

That's why everyone called them Slag.

The trees hadn't always been on fire, but they had been on fire before.

That had been their fault too.

Being the smallest Ork in a tiny Orkin village, reporting to a tiny Orkin warlord who somehow believed he had the brass balls of a god, Slag wasn't exactly well cared for.

Their name was their job. They were an Ork, after all.

The blacksmith beat the metal, made the weapons. Tossed the slag in a pile.

Molten metal twisted and smouldered, and Slag would grab it by the handful, and toss it into a cauldron of water, and when that was full, kick it down the hill into the dumpsite.

When the dumpsite was full, Slag would summon the demon, who would demand some strange price, then vanish with the lot.

The demon's prices weren't helping their standing with the rest of the tribe.

Like today.

Slag craned their neck, looking up at the red fiery, and rather horned creature, "Say again?"

The deep earth-rumbling voice laughed, "I want you to sing! Sing like a girl! Like a tiny little human girl!"

Slag winced, "I am a girl, demon." [^1]

The creature blinked in surprise, "You? Little squelchling?"

Slag shrugged, "I'm a girl. I don't got tits... I ain't pretty. But I am."

The demon winced, "Figure out which god cursed you little girl... After you sing."

Singing? An Ork?

Orkcakes.

The demon would go, and she'd be blamed there was no room in the dump, and then the Orklord would be in her face. Again.

Then threaten to marry her to his son. Again.

She blanched.

The demon laughed, "Last chance, little orkling."

She coughed nervously, and then a squeaking voice emerged, singing a quiet rhyme she'd overheard one day.

Something about stars and diamonds. Humans were weird. [^2]

Unfortunately, her voice was less like a starlet, and more like diamonds scraping across sandglass.

The demon shreiked and disappeared back into their realm.

Without the slag.

She winced, glancing towards the village, "Orkcakes."

A hand like iron clasped her head, "Slag."

She smiled weakly up at her father, and at his one eyes staring out from a bushy grey beard. [^3]

The warrior released her and spoke gruffly, "Was that you singing, again?" [^4]

She blushed, looking down in shame, "The demon's price."

The old man groaned and reached for a whip on the wall, "Please tell me he took the slag."

"I don't lie, father." She answered. [^5]

He winced and glared at the doorway, unravelling the whip, preparing to hit the next person who came in. "Go to you room, Slag."

"It's my honour." She crossed her arms, pretending not to notice that her chest didn't show any bigger, "I want to defend it."

"Now, Slag." He growled through his tusks.

She turned and moped away into her bedroom.

She couldn't fight, all she could do was listen to the glorious blood-curling screams as the emissaries dies. [^6]

Slag picked some metal from beneath her fingernails and flung it into the wall, pinning a fly by one wing. [^7]

It wasn't fair.

She wanted a real fight.

Why did boys get all the fun?

The guts and the murder?

All she got was... Slag.

An axe blade broke through her wall briefly, before being pulled back quickly, followed by a strangled sound.

She rolled her eyes and flopped onto her straw bed, staring at the ceiling tiredly.

Humans made life look so simple.

Find a man, get pregnant, take care of the litter until you died.

Just cooking, singing and cleaning.

She licked the edge of her tusk, yawning. This was going to be another, she must get married because she's useless argument with the Orklord. Which would inevitable lead to my son is too stupid, fat and ugly to possibly get married, and then... Ew.

She didn't want the bastard.

He certainly wanted her though, all drooling and slurping.

She wanted to be a Knight. [^8]

That was it. All of it. Her only dream.

A glorious warrior, protecting the weak, hunting the monsters that pray on people in the dark. [^9]

Her sword would have a name, and glow with power when evil was near. [^10]

She would yell out it's name, and light up the dark.

Then she'd kill the bad guy, cut off his head, and ride home with it, and stake it to her wall. [^11]

[^1]: Really? Wow. Never would have guessed... But orks are always hard to apply gender to.

[^2]: Understatement. What other species looks around themselves in wonder and decides blowing stuff up is the best way to get something out of the ground?

[^3]: Stories on exactly how he lost his eye vary. Most involve a dragon, a bet, and a gallon ale. And perhaps a wet, old sock.

[^4]: Oh gods. She'd tried to sing before? Had birds died?

[^5]: Not strictly true. She did lie, but only about unimportant stuff. Like what she wanted for dinner. Or what job she wished she had. Or who she wanted to marry. Nothing big.

[^6]: It's an Orkin thing. Send some messenger to die when your upset with your opponent, and then turn up when their bloodlust was sated. Good way to not die.

[^7]: She was a practiced hand at this now. Sociopath, or bored teenager? Let the public decide! Blast her in this week's Orks magazine!

[^8]: ... Should someone tell her human knights usually hunt down orks?

[^9]: So... Hungry orks. Seriously. Someone should tell her.

[^10]: So, it would always be lit up. Because you're on Ork, girl.

[^11]: Oh geeze. Are you the hero, or the villain, Slag?

alright so much to my dismay, no, not currently day drunk (though a mimosa does not sound half bad right now!)

so in place of my standard late-night drunk poetry, have some mid-morning-havent-slept-in-36-hours-poetry.

cheers

bishop

remember wanting what i got now
didn't think it'd be a let down
guess back then i wasnt thinking sound
deadly quiet with you not around

got me so down im
making lots of pillows
taking heavy shots and smoking
off a lot of rillos
now my mind is gone, am i okay
i cannot think so
falling down from heaven hitting
every branch like plinko

like you're yoko ono and
i'm every single beatle.
warring with myself and every
general's in fetal
got my world all fucked but
i lay here with no libido
sorry if i fucked it up, i
swear i did not mean to

but at least i saw a palm tree
caught a little of the ocean breeze
heavy sand where you buried me
for the forest couldn't hear the screams.

got me so down im
making lots of pillows
taking heavy shots and smoking
off a lot of rillos
think my mind is gone, am i okay
i cannot think so
falling down from heaven hitting
every branch like plinko

no quiero recordar nada
que ella ha dicho
Como el tiempo cuando
ella me ha prometido
que nosotros siempre
quedaríamos amigos
He querido solo estar
perfecto contigo.

loved our movie, but you said
you didn't want a sequel
got my head up in the clouds
now i cannot see through
if you were perfection,
how can i trust other people
to take my hand and guide me
past all of the shit we been through

(beat.)

got me so down im
making lots of pillows
taking heavy shots and smoking
off a lot of rillos
think my mind is gone, am i okay
i cannot think so
falling down from heaven hitting
every branch like plinko

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1s2iTsjvNthl8cmgvcF7q2vUewu69mGLb?usp=sharing

It's missing a screen decal and some software tweaks, but the #MAME#Sega arcade machine is about done. I really wanted to built something that could handle a game of Street Fighter 4 as easy as it could swap to Daytona USA on Model 2 or Virtual On using Demul.

Here are the components.

1 #Thrustmaster wheel and pedals2
Six button Sanwa/IR arcade controls sets
2 8 way mini flight sticks (For Twin Stick games)
1 Ipac ultimate

I'm a first time wood worker and vinyl applicator, and have a long long list of things that I learned not to do in the future. I'm still figuring out what the best way is to run all of this gear, but so far so good. What's not evident in this photo are the 1/2 lines of plexi that live beneath the decal around the perimeter, and that are illuminated with addressable LEDs. The window in the speaker area (speaker grills are coming, still) has a Dreamcast swirl LED sequence that travels through a spiral inside as well.

**As far as hobbies go, this one had a big learning curve and required the purchase of a few tools. That said, it was totally worth it.

Dans la vie intérieure, le temps tient lieu d'espace.
(In the inner life, time takes the place of space.)
Simone Weil, La Pesanteur et la Grâce (Gravity and Grace)

Inside [the black hole's event horizon]… [what used to be a spatial
coordinate] is the time. … The singularity… is not a place in space; it
is a moment in time.
James B. Hartle, Gravity: An Introduction to Einstein's General Relativity

In my old poems I saw
the sentimental one
scenting sighs,    seeing scars
everywhere, twisting them
into words, arranging words
so they fit in a grid,
regular,    repeating.

Preoccupied, she wanted the answer
to the only question: What had made her
like this? An effect that sought the cause and
nothing else. Her city caught in a verdant
early summer day, light abounded; she
felt time had been running out silently.

How much has really changed ever since?

I now have an answer, and more.
She made me; cause, effect. Questions!
How will I be? What will I be?
What am I?

I am a tiny bit of what she wasn't:
the all-embracing space and time beyond
her self, her fear of being forgotten,
solitude unwitnessed, and pain futile.

I am not just her descendant either.
Holding her precious gift of exposed self,
I too am exposed to what I am not,
asking how much has changed, what I'm changing.

This is a new one I wrote today.

Edit: replaced one "the" with "an".

ive had this idea in the back of my head for awhile, roll with me.

sad parties.

so much emphasis on things being perfect, people being perfect, work being perfect, life being perfect. so many people caught up in social media subconsciously at battle to live a filter-perfect lifestyle.

sad parties.

a bunch of people youre close to get together at a comfortable apartment, good food, lots of drinks, lots of drugs. everyones free to indulge as they wish. all the lights go off except for a fireplace or some low-impact nightlights by an easel, and theres just a stream of sad music in the background. no words spoken unless you directly enter a conversation with someone. no forced interaction. just lots of pillows, blankets, and vibes.

really want one of these. might make it a regular thing once i head out west.

anyways, back to the reason we're all here. more sad drunk poetry<3

thank you for all those who leave the comments. i honestly wouldnt keep posting if it werent for you all giving me that little nudge of support. it means a lot.

much love.

bishop.

metal must be the best flavor of ice cream.
take a double scoop, hope i dont see the morning
leaded kiss orgasm, baby send me out moaning
dropped my puppet strings, guess im not worth controlling.
metal must be the best flavor of ice cream.
must be in a coma, two years been a bad dream.
poor lost lamb caught up with a black sheep
just another sad white kid, rest in peace Peep.

maybe some lives werent meant for the living
maybe some dreams were meant to go missing
kinda miss the way you would scream like a banshee
kinda miss the way you would threaten to leave me
wanna go back to the days when you need me
always liked how youd cut me deep, and then heal me
if it makes you smile when i cry, then abuse me.
really wouldnt mind if you came back to use me,

cant feel good enough on the nicotine therapy
oxygen coming through airily, barely
slaps on my face were a heavenly remedy
soft pink lace was a beautiful heresy.
pain, drugs, suicidal tendencies, obscurity
wanna fade to black, tell God roll the credit scene
another funeral in the wake of our legacy
metal must be the best flavor of ice cream

(beat.)

metal must be the best flavor of ice cream.
take a double scoop, hope i dont see the morning
leaded kiss orgasm, baby send me out moaning
dropped my puppet strings, guess im not worth controlling.
metal must be the best flavor of ice cream.
must be in a coma, two years been a bad dream.
poor lost lamb caught up with a black sheep
knocking back four different drugs just to get sleep

metal is the only thing i feel around me
liquor by the half cup never stops pouring
you held me down, now i feel like im falling
up to the sky, sunshine in the mourning.

With my left hand I embrace and repel.
With my right hand I create and destroy.
I stand before you, both hands free.
We remember past hopes and joy.

Listen to this moment, presence of silence.
Nothing divides and nothing draws us close.
Attention is all we exchange,
Attention in the shape of rose.

I longed for witness. Before whom? No one.
Is my heart pure? No. But she insisted.
We give; and what are we but gifts?
Gifts we forgot we'd accepted.

To doubt is to attempt holding back time,
Lifting time's illusion by illusion.
I may trust, knowing that I trust.
At times we feel with precision.

We part our ways like rose petals in wind.
We will return when time again is still,
For no more delight but to see,
With no more longing to fulfil.

for those keeping track, this title's in italian, not afrikaans.

normally don't "summer" kind of stuff, but as always, i just write what's on my mind once the liquor hits.

hope you all enjoy.<3

much love

bishop

sometimes I need a bubble bath.
ginger ale, vodka splash
couple friends, a couple grams
electronic cigarettes.
bath bomb with the glitter in
free pass to commit a sin
babygirl let's dive in.
bet we won't even remember it.

standing at the precipice
not a lot of trust to give
broken down, a sad kid
you're steady in the madness
babygirl I feel it happening
tension slipping kinda rapid
cold beers and a hot kiss
forbidden peach, like genesis

i write music
to sin to.
baby let me
sing with you
sigh the notes, we
can sing tunes
you're the nectar
the gods knew
i write music
to sin to.
baby let me
sing with you
sigh the notes, we
can sing tunes
you're the nectar
the gods knew

(beat.)

nicotine and a lotta weed
open up a new side of me
one that wanna see you smiling
fuck what your other man think
two friends in a summer fling
you bite your lip when you kiss me
's why you always invite me,
when you're home and feel lonely.

Want my music to go hard,
Sing for my friends in the dark,
Get to drunk to remember,
The bullshit feeling sad part

sometimes I need a bubble bath.
ginger ale, vodka splash
couple friends, a couple grams
electronic cigarettes.
bath bomb with the glitter in
free pass to commit a sin
babygirl let's dive in.
bet we won't even remember it.

Introduction and motivation

In an effort to get more content on Tildes, I want to try and give an introduction on several 'hot topics' in semiconductor physics at a level understandable to laypeople (high school level physics background). Making physics accessible to laypeople is a much discussed topic at universities. It can be very hard to translate the professional terms into a language understandable by people outside the field. So I will take this opportunity to challenge myself to (hopefully) create an understandable introduction to interesting topics in modern physics. To this end, I will take liberties in explaining things, and not always go for full scientific accuracy, while hopefully still getting the core concepts across. If a more in-depth explanation is wanted, please ask in the comments and I will do my best to answer.

Today's topic

I will start this series with an introduction to spintronics and spin transistors.

What is spintronics?

Spintronics is named in analogy to electronics. In electronics, the flow of current (consisting of electrons) is studied. Each electron has an electric charge, and by pulling at this charge we can move electrons through wires, transistors, creating modern electronics. Spintronics also studies the flow of electrons, but it uses another property of the electrons, spin, to create new kinds of transistors.

What are transistors?

Transistors are small electronic devices that act as an on-off switch for current. We can flip this on-off switch by sending a signal to the transistor, so that the current will flow. Transistors are the basis for all computers and as such are used very widely in modern life.

What is spin?

Spin arises from quantum mechanics. However, for the purpose of explaining spin transistors we can think of an electron's spin as a bar magnet. Each electron can be thought of as a bar magnet that will align itself to a nearby magnetic field. Think of it as a compass (the electron) aligning itself to a fridge magnet when it's held near the compass.

What are spin transistors and how do they work?

Spin transistors are a type of transistor whose on-off switch is created by magnets. We take two bar magnets, whose north poles are pointed in the same way, and put them next to each other, leaving a small gap between them. This gap is filled with a material through which the electrons can move. Now we connect wires to the big bar magnets and let current (electrons!) flow through both magnets, via the gap. When the electrons go through the first magnet, their internal magnets will align themselves to the big bar magnet. However, once they are in the gap the electrons' internal magnets will start rotating and no longer point in the same direction as the big bar magnets. So that when the electrons arrive at the second magnet, they will be repelled just like when you try to push the north poles of two magnets together. This means the current will not flow, and the device is off! So, how do we get it to turn on?

By exposing the gap to an electric field, we can control the amount of rotation the electrons experience (this is called the Rashba effect). If we change the strength of this electric field so that the electrons will make exactly one full rotation while crossing the gap, then by the time they reach the second big bar magnet they will once again be pointing in the right direction. Now the electrons are able to move through the second big bar magnet, and out its other end. So by turning this electric field on, the spin transistor will let current flow, and if we turn the electric field off, no current will flow. We have created an on-off switch using magnets and spin!

That's cool, but why go through the effort of doing this when we have perfectly fine electronics already?

The process of switching between the on and off states of these spin transistors is a lot more energy efficient than with regular transistors. These types of transistors leak a lot less too. Normal transistors will leak, meaning that a small amount of current will go through even when the transistor is off. With spin transistors, this leak is a lot smaller. This once again improves the energy efficiency of these devices. So in short, spin transistors will make your computer more energy efficient. This type of transistor can also be made smaller than normal transistors, which leads to more powerful computers.

Feedback and interest

As I mentioned, I wrote this post as a challenge to myself to explain modern physics to laypeople. Please let me know where I succeeded and where I failed. Also let me know if you like this type of content and if I should continue posting other similar topics in the same format.

fuck anybody who says my shit isn't cultured.

sorry if my language isn't okay on the site.

v drunk at the moment

here it goes anyway

enjoy.

or don't i guess,

either way.

j'en veux plus
exister
içi.

c'est impossible
à dormir
depuis

février quand
t'étais
parti

la bouteille
à remplacé
therapie

Tu m'as
donné pas de
sympathie

c'est parce'que
toi que je
ecris

tous les chansons
qui parle'd
mourir

ouais c'est
vrai q'je rêve
d'suicide

Je plonge
dans l'alcool
comme piscine

Daily still
wonder if
you miss me

Daddy still
gonna miss
his baby

I really miss
the way you'd
reassure me

comme

"Oauis, papa
c'est que tout va-t-
allez bien

Non, monsieur,
tu ne mourras pas
cette semaine.

Je vais, faire
sûr que je prends
soin de toi

I will love you,
cross my heart and
swear to God. "

"Oauis, papa
c'est que tout va-t-
allez bien

Non, monsieur,
tu ne mourras pas
cette semaine.

Je vais, faire
sûr que je prends
soin de toi

I will love you,
cross my heart and
swear to God. "

J'en veux plus
exister
sans toi

Je m'ai demandé
chaque nuit
pourquoi?

Tu m'as laiseé
completement
pantois

Je'm sens
maintenant
trop inadéquat

Would you like me
better if I had
some photoshop

Would you come to
visit if my breathing
ever stopped

Better yet, I
wonder if I'd rather
have you not

I just wish I had
some truth before
I fade to black

ouais, monsieur.

tu ne mourras pas
cette semaine

been sitting on two of these most of the day, might be a little messy.

i feel like it's a little stale since i left it waiting, and i'm significantly more sober than when i usually write.

as always, comments welcome. or ignore this entirely if you're not feeling it<3

bless.

bishop

also this one gets somewhat graphic, gonna start leaving these trigger warnings up top - drugs, alcohol, suicide, covers it i think, let me know if i should add anything else

been smoking and drinking
just so i can cope
gave her the ring
she put me on the ropes
new girl show up but
i don't got no hope
my heart is still sinking
i'm trying to float like

Gretel, baby, where did you go?
no crumbs left I can throw
Hansel in the forest alone
put me out of house and my home
hands full of green and some blow
no drinks left but the coke
she's laughing now - am I the joke?
turned my heartthrob into a stroke -

your bedside's left wide
open to the moonlight
head high, red eye
stranded on the roadside
you kissed, i cried,
while i watched papaw die
No sleep, four nights
you told me it's alright
helped me keep my head high
helped me say my goodbyes
then you hit me blindside
didn't get a goodbye

peace, bye, next flight,
right into his arms like
you've been biding time,
waiting for the day to strike me

down.

down.

down.

Left me tied strapped to the bed
Headphones looping what you said
Promises we could stay friends.
Cool ones pour down my head
I know the river Styx runs red
Little siren told me "Baby, dive in"
Closed eyes, woke up dead.
Didn't know God's a raven.

Now you got your Raybans
and your black Timbs
Got your new Amex,
one in the black print
Hope it was worth it
on your conscience
that you lied through your teeth
and he fucking lost it

costless

Must be nice right?
If it's not on the bill
it don't have a price
Fuck being nice,
Fuck doing what's right,
What's another sad white
boy taking his life?

Masochistic statistic
when his legs kick
Fuck vacation,
Miami,
Fuck a new chick
Cool one rain straight
to the forehead
Gorgeous.
One less problem
to deal with. Lord, yes.

Gretel, baby, where did you go?
no crumbs left I can throw
Hansel in the forest alone
put me out of house and my home
hands full of green and some blow
no drinks left but the coke
she's laughing now - am I the joke?
turned my heartthrob into a stroke -

nevermind.

my stoep is warm.
my stoep is warm.
can't keep my calm
it should probably raise alarms if
my stoep is warm
my stoep is warm
that there's a problem
and I dont know how to stop it

fucked up his arm
with bleeding scars
that kid's an addict he
has no idea how to quit
Insha'allah
One day he'll stop
If he ever dulls the edges of
the shards of broken promises

'llahu-allah
'llahu-allah
That a broken-legged lamb
can still hobble into Providence
i hear the caw
i hear the caw
woke up in a sweat and
saw a raven at my doorstep

(beat.)

messed up inside
messed up inside
only when he's fucked up
does he really feel alive
the pain you feel
the pain you feel
is the happiness you had before
So pay it up boy, that's the price.

my stoep is warm.
my stoep is warm.
can't keep my calm
it should probably raise alarms if
my stoep is warm
my stoep is warm
that there's a problem
and I dont know how to stop it

fucked up his arm
with bleeding scars
that kid's an addict he
has no idea how to quit
Insha'allah
One day he'll stop
If he ever dulls the edges of
the shards of broken promises

the stoa's hot
the stoa's hot
how you gonna run from
a problem that's inside your head

it's going dark,
it's going dark
beautiful curse if you
find that you woke up again

hi there.

before you read this, it's another one of my shitty sad poem/lyrics doohickeys.

i generally just post these up here as a way to vent, clear my head when i cant sleep.

if you're alright with sad stuff, feel free to read along. if not, that's cool too. just wanted to give a heads up in case there's stuff on your mind you're trying not to think about.

anyways,

thanks for stopping by,

bishop.

i just want to sip
four bottles of wine
fall asleep in the bath
pray to god that i die
summer's on hold
only winter in the night
i only felt right
when i was by your side

been in my head so
long that i lost my mind.
running little low on
words, because you never write

cant get to sleep until 4am
nothing feels home like an angry bed
cant find a shoulder to lay my head,
missing warm lips and your icy legs.

trying real hard not to fuck with meds.
goddamn hard not to fuck with meds.
can't get the picture out of my head
of you in my bed so i guess instead

i just want to sip
four bottles of wine
fall asleep in the bath
pray to god that i die
summer's on hold
only winter in the night
i only felt right
when i was by your side
hard to want to try if you
don't want to be alive
only crashing hard now
because you made me feel high
in a week you were gone,
couldn't get a kiss bye
bled your name out of my arm
once upon a midnight

can't stop looking at
your shadow on my bedside
all the worst demons
are the ones we have inside
splashing turned to drowning in
the ocean of her blue eyes
x on the map,
wherefore does her love lie
Nyctophobic and you
took my dog and my flashlight
Guess I didn't know that
certain spiders can spin lies
diamonds in midnight
can try, but still won't shine
cant turn it down, honey,
do you hear a loud cry?

(

beat. sip some tea.

)

if the whole world's upside
down, can you stand upright?
guess this is the toll for
the road less traveled by
caught in the valley of the
dark - ride, baby, ride
make me feel high and
you can hurt me until i die

i just want to sip
four bottles of wine
fall asleep in the bath
pray to god that i die
summer's on hold
only winter in the night
i only felt right
when i was by your side
hard to want to try if you
don't want to be alive
only crashing hard now
because you made me feel high
in a week you were gone,
couldn't get a kiss bye
never heard that sound before,
do you hear a loud cry?

A little pretext. I wrote this poem in november 2017, and I slightly improved it today. I enjoy creating stories and poems are a way that I did not try much before. I don't know much about it, except the few things I learned in school and i can't remember most of it. Also english is my second language and there might be some words that don't fit in.
The changes in lines and rythm are intended to match the story.
If this does not meet the high-quality content and discussion and therefore doesn't fit in with ~, let me know and I will remove it.

To stop my rambling: Feel free to leave criticism. I plan to make poetry my hobby so any tips, comments, feedback and thoughts are appreciated.

Somewhere,
deep in the wild
Layed there,
Cold a little child.

It wasn't very long ago,
The rotten did not show,
All consuming deafening silence,
Pierced only by crows crying violent.

What happened here?
She ran from fear.
To escape the grasp,
Of the ones she hold dear.

One soul has passed before her,
Taking with his life,
The only thing she ever strived
Her mother, father and her brother
Two of these caused the disaster.

It began with a fight,
In a cold winter night,
Snow falling lightly,
And the ice growing wildly.

Suddenly the moment
when all seemed to fly
Death was potent
Coming in the blink of an eye.

Crushed by the car's roof,
Not needing any more proof.
The little boy left,
She cried over his death

Sad things passed
and bad will follow.
To escape the sorrow
Two chose their paths

Alcohol in mornings and nights,
Followed by overbearing fights,
Inbetween this shit
Was one little kid

Treated like air,
It was just not fair
Her family's break,
Was the last thing she could take

She ran into the woods,
Only on foot.
Soon she lost her trail
And soon after she wailed.

In her last thoughts
she met her god.
Looked him deep in the eye
And pierced him with a knive

Somewhere,
deep in the wild
Layed there,
Cold a little child.

Edit: Formatting mistakes

This is a photo I took in rural Myanmar October of 2012. We were on a group trek from the city of Kalaw to Inle Lake. We stopped at a school in one of the rural towns to meet the kids and donate supplies. We arrived during their school day but their teacher allowed us 30 minutes to an hour (can't remember) to play with and talk to the kids. It was an absolute blast, the kids were full of energy and opened up to the group quickly.

The school was a single room school house where all ages study together. The teacher for this school was young and from another city/town/village. We were told that the community provided her food and shelter in trade for her teaching the kids. If money was required for something, maybe transportation back home, they would come together to help. I do not know the ethnicity of the community or kids, other than Burmese.

Please critique the above write up, both grammatically and content wise, and help me with suggestions of titles. I severely lack in title creativity/ability.