I’ve been struggling for a goodly long time in trying to desolder components from my Atari 600XL. I was using a soldering iron and soder sucker. This two handed operation left me frustrated more often than not.
Finally I purchased a desoldering iron. What a difference it made! Add to that a pair of magnifying glasses and I was able to increase my productivity a hundred fold.
I am (re)learning C through dutifully typing out all the examples and exercises in the book. However my goal is to compile applications to the Atari 8-bit platform. I wanted to be able to test compile quickly using gcc and then compile later with cc65.
To solve the problem I test for a predefined macro by the preprocessor of the compiler I am using. For gcc the MACRO __ATARI__ is not defined but it is for cc65. Thus in my code I test for the condition with ifdef and then put in my platform specific code if the condition is true. This method also works for including platform specific includes.
I think the current practice is define all this in a makefile for the target platform. But I don’t feel like learning sed to change source file on the fly (at least not yet).
Sample code testing for the macro __ATARI__ and then executing platform specific code.
#ifdef __ATARI__
(void) cgetc();
#endif
Now of course I could probably just use scanf(“%c”, &aChar); but where is the fun in that when you have cgetc() ?
Things I need to start looking into:
the tool make
I like the fact if you type ‘make PROGRAM = a.out’ and it actually works. Well it works if your makefile has the variable PROGRAM. I was trying to figure out how to pass command line parameters to make. Apparently I don’t need to
If you are having problems with the D-Link Shareport Utility connecting to devices simply turn off Windows 7 firewall. Problem solved. Then of course rebuild the Windows 7 Firewall by allowing the specific ports required for sharing to work
Today is Father’s day. Today, a lonely day. My family is away. I am left with an empty house. The only noise is of pigeons cooing softly as they scratch at the roof. Perhaps they, sensing nothing stirs within, seek to find a way to rejoin life to an empty shell of a home. Maybe it is their home now. For they, through chance, have more right than I to coddle against the hearth of the home to bring warmth.
My wife , my children, my life are away in Malaysia whilst I, here. Here, toiling away, eking out a living. A living for me, for them, for us. Even the pigeons it seems. The toil, as it is, births a daily drudgery of repetitiveness that keeps my thoughts straying to life as it once was. A life not so long ago full of the sharp cries of laughter, joy and content.
So little did I imagine I would miss even the smallest of noises. The inconsequential things. The little things. The quietness of a sleeping baby in her room. The peace of settled night as children lay weary heads down for sleep. Or of the quite murmurings of the morning as the sun whispers greetings of the day slowly across the eastern horizon. And of the calm peace in the wee hours of the morning as dreams fade and the body stirs to embrace the warm glory of the coming day. Of this I have none. Of them I miss; those and more.
Each moment of time, in a house that is not a home, seems stretched taught. A thin thread of moment to moment with no interruption. One second slips and then another. Each into an endless fall of repeating minutes. Hours slip and days go by.
And I, I in my home, stand forlorn. Full of empty I bear witness to nothing. I am filled with remembrance of time. Time sluiced with the silence of passing moments. Passing heart beats, one to the next. Each beat, each thrust longing for the sound. Instead each one is met with moments filled with void. Filled with the nothings of quiet.
No peals of laughter cantor down the halls of home. No cries of childhood frustration bounce up and down the stairs. No soft whispering of love caress my ears from a wife, a son or a daughter.
Instead the ears are jostled by the constant pounding of the vast constant quiet. The drubbing of it bores into me. It pushes my thoughts away from the hearing of life. I live in quiet.
I live in moments.
I live in each second.
Waiting.
I live in silence.
матрациReally… I’m just not blogging much.
Hi folks!
Like many of my friends I’ve left the blog world some months ago. I’m not back to pick up the proverbial pen and put thoughts to paper again about all my autocratic and esoteric whims (self-deprecating humor there for those who don’t know my).
Instead I wish to journal some lessons learned in pursuit of my new hobby?
Hobby you say?
Why yes, nice you asked.
I am the proud owner of two Atari 8-bit computers. I own both the Atari 400 and Atari 800. Why two? Well the short of it is that I won an auction on E-bay for a combined lot with extras. But why Atari?
You see when I was but a young lad way way back in the early 80’s my older brother had an Atari 400. I mostly played games on it but looking back on my misspent childhood my biggest regret was that I did not teach myself how to program. The irony here is my um… biological male progenitor knew how to program and had a career information systems. Yet he did not deem to spend any effort to teach me despite the fact I spent part a good deal of time tinkering with the old computers sitting around the house.
None the less that is a long story and not one in which I’m interested in retelling. Instead lets get on with the show. To tantalize you here are a few scantly clad pictures of my Atari 800.
Nice eh? I thought so as well. Well that is enough for now as it is late and I want to do some programming for the Atari. I’ll buy coffee for the first person who guesses correctly which language I am developing in.
I hate the great outdoors; at least the part of it where I have to make it ‘great’. Regina has a backyard garden which she has planted fruit trees, flowers and other shrubbery. Over the last few years it really has gone to the weeds with the trees being the only recognizable thing in it. Even the trees have revolted by sprouting the horried peach leaf curl. Many execuses why the garden looks the way it did but mostly due to the fact I’m no good a manual labor. Ask any of my friends, colleagues or even a stranger and they’ll say yep, “That Richard sure ain’t no good a hard work!” So when it comes time to pull weeds, plant and clean up I whine like my children. However Regina was keen to get this done so I bit the bullet and tackled the eye soar with a vengence. After three hours of pulling, tossing, scraping and cleaning I finally managed to have a bare surfaces with only flowers, trees and some poor looking shrubbery. Hey, I was only supposed to clear it out not make it look fancy. I dumped some nitrogen and some other chemicals I’m sure the state of California would find to be hazardous and mark the entire site a super fund clean up but I had to in order to help the fruit tree survive the ravages of fungisits. After all this work I now have a garden that is ready for planting. Great, more work but it makes the wife happy. A happy wife is a good thing.
Quick blog entry: Robert Reiche has a blog. His blog is awesome. Read his blog. I’d love to have him sign my copy of Supercapitalism that he wrote but it is an e-book.
William S. Chennault, 94 years, passed away on February 26, 2009 in his home. Bill was born January 2, 1915 in New Orleans, LA to Claire Lee Chennault and Anna Mae (Griffin) Chennault.
William was employed as an Engineer and worked for most of his career in Houston, TX. William also worked in many mid-western states. During his work in the mid-west, he fell in love with the Missouri Ozarks. Prior to World War II, William was in the United States Navy and a plank-owner of the heavy cruiser U.S.S. San Francisco.
Bill and Ernestine Gilbert were united in marriage in Houston, TX. Bill was a member of the International Union of Operating Engineers Local #450. Bill was involved in the construction of the United States Air Force Academy, NORAD, still secret installations in New Mexico, and NASA in Houston. He enjoyed living in the Ozarks and was happy to return, thirty years ago. Bill loved being with his family and especially his grandchildren. Additionally, retiring to his beloved Ozark Mountains was his dream come true. He was both an expert pistol shot and fly fisherman.
William was preceded by his parents, his wife, Ernestine, his wife Marie, his wife, Lucille, and his first wife, Christine, and a daughter, Julia (Chennault) Erikson.
William is survived by his children, (William) Bill C. (Barbara) Chennault, Kansas City, KS, Margaret (Kin) Norwood, Houston, TX, Donald (Jonnie Mae) Whitley, Ava, MO, Robert Chennault, Gladstone, MO and Jacquline (James) Litwin, Evergreen, CO, seventeen grandchildren, twenty-three great grandchildren and a host of other relatives and friends.
Cremation services are being conducted by Clinkingbeard Funeral Home, Ava, MO.
http://www.clinkingbeardfuneralhome.com/index.cfm