From 080fbe50753f87a4a8ebe840304660308a4823fc Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Radiohotline Date: Tue, 10 Mar 2026 13:08:46 +0000 Subject: update links --- about.html.save | 202 -------------------------------------------------------- 1 file changed, 202 deletions(-) delete mode 100644 about.html.save diff --git a/about.html.save b/about.html.save deleted file mode 100644 index b9c3eca..0000000 --- a/about.html.save +++ /dev/null @@ -1,202 +0,0 @@ - - - - - - - - - - - Soft Machine | About - - - -
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About

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Soft Machine

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House

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Webmaster

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radiohotline[at]disroot[dot]org - PGP key

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The more I try to outline who I am, the more I lose grasp.1

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- I'm an artist, musician, and "programmer" (I mainly use C), with a passion for music, computers (both CS and CE), experimental art, and other things. - I am a linguistics student. -

- I love learning about everything. More persistent interests include philosophy, literature, linguistics, psychology, - cryptanalysis, video games and game development, filmmaking, - electronics, ham radio, dinosaurs, birdwatching, and FOSS. -

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- 1 - Fruit bled in the palm
- Streaking life across my skin
- I am real again
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- 2 - Site button -

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History: Soft Machine2 started in 2021 under the name "Randal", and it was only populated in 2022 when it was renamed to "Teeth in Vitro", when it solely - held the Nirvana page. After a hiatus, it was relaunched in 2024 as a much more - compact personal website, the modest version you can find under /min. In late 2025, a style based on the typography of House of Leaves was used, - as on this page. It is archived under /old. As of 2026, the site is themed around my project "Moloch". - You pass by people every day and they don't leave an impression on you, and neither will I, but maybe I will leave a mark on the world as someone who merely - existed. Aim: The site serves as a hub for all my projects, ranging from art to techy escapades. Essays may be shared if a topic lingers on my mind. -

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Inspiration

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- I believe in self-sufficiency as a lifestyle, and this extends into my love for DIY. If I can make something myself instead of buying it, I attempt to do it. - As a result, I love open-source hardware projects, but DIY includes crafts and clothes. -

- I am deeply fascinated by human life from the Paleolithic to the Bronze Age. Even though I am drawn to anthropological history, I despise mankind and what - it made, but I have a soft spot for prehistoric settlements and early civilization, especially Mesopotamian. -

- I'm also fascinated by categorization, data archives and collections of basically anything, tools, trinkets, mechanisms, and musical instruments. - A lot of my interests are off-shoots or combinations of each other, and my aspirations lay everywhere since my dream is to combine the things that - I enjoy doing into a valuable creation. -

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- - - - sitcomtheory.org - - WIRED COLLECTIVE WEBRING - - - publictransit.neocities.org - dhmo.org - - - theanarchistlibrary.org - archive.org - zapatopi.net/treeoctopus - - crouton.net - - - -
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- Do you remember the taste of your mother's flesh? Do you remember the smell of the angel's milk? Do you remember the metal joints that were once your bones? Do you remember the sound of the thunder that was once your heart? The ivory is the amalgam in your teeth. The flowers sit between the tangled strands of your perfumed hair. Your mother has long been dead, but her mass remains hidden in the overgrown and forgotten realm of your home, with rusted pipes still extending from the meat. You opened your eyes a thousand years ago, but have only blinked today, moisturizing your eyes for the first time and with it storing your memories in the record. You begin a new life everyday if you have no attachment to anything. Every item left behind is reborn every hour. Nothing holds the traces of your touch anymore. Everything around you has become a faded and swirling mess, floating like gas that carries you with ease. You are heavy. You are light. You do not know grief, but you know warmth. You knew one warmth. It is now cold all around you. You do not know if you are lost or at your new home. You do not care to know. You look up to the saturated blue sky, and it returns your glimpse with a blinding beam of red light. You have a feeling that the beam was once a white bundle of rays that softly painted your surroundings, but you can never be sure. With each passing day, you bury more of the past under the soft and wet clumps of soil that make up your world. You continue to crawl towards a God you wish to find. It is all you have. -

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