Any particular reason?

It’s enough to make a grown man, well, groan. The last couple of weeks have been exceptionally interesting, in the Chinese sense, and exceptionally frustrating, in every sense. In the words of The Clash, I’ve been beat up, I’ve been thrown out, but I’m not down. Naturally, I’ve been neither, but the principle seems sound.
I’m currently swimming like crazy just to stay still, in a tidal swimming pool which is also uphill. A salmon ladder without rungs. I’ve been quiet because I suddenly have no time at all. It seems as if I’m suddenly having to start from the beginning again.
My website was hacked. For no apparent reason. I might have understood someone who felt I had insulted them or their deity having a go (though still would find it pathetic), but gazahacker and his/her chums feel that it’s perfectly ok to destroy someone’s hard work for no other reason than they can. Cheers. Do introduce yourselves if ever we meet …
I received an email saying my site was doing funny things in Arabic, and lo and behold, it had perished. Every last scrap of information gone. Hours of work and no little emotional input simply wiped off the face of the web.
What makes people think that this is ok, funny, even? It’s like schoolground bullying but from behind a hedge: unseen, unknown, aresponsible. It’s not even that I’m angry, merely confused. Why bother if your victim neither knows who you are or why you act? If it’s at random, then what does that say about your own attitude to life? It’s not schoolground bullying. It’s the walking home and stepping on snails. Utterly pointless. Pure, unthinking, undirected malice.
Because of this, I have to re-post everything I have records of. Yes, I can do it, and yes, in some ways it’s a opportunity to tweak my site design, adjust the hierarchies, re-jigger the categories, make it all more, well, relevant … but in other ways the purity of narrative has been destroyed. The comments on various posts lost. The way in which website interacts with life lost.
That and it’s going to take a whole heap of fucking time.
Time which is ever more precious is now expended on rebuilding a past when it ought to be spent on the present, the future.
But without a sense of past, the present has no meaning, the future no allure.
So rebuild I do.

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