Written on 23rd March 2025, then 8th April 2025

Writing practice: I think I need to allow myself to be disordered and vulnerable to be creative.

The words you are reading in this blog post travelled through this cable: down the wall, past the ashtray and into the ground, and then eventually on to your computer. The weeds shouldn't interfere with the signal.

This website is hosted on a repurposed computer inside this slightly decaying 1960s building added on to a Victorian vet school.

The room next door holds an array of fridges that used to store dead animals for dissection by students. They are now used to make ice for drinks in Edinburgh's most fashionable bars.

The server is opposite what was a decaying set of plants - a purple glowing hydroponic experiment called "The Cybernetic Meadow". The plants grew some tasty hot chillis but the cybernetic gardener had to go away for a period, and they withered. The meadow is currently being prepared for replanting.

The computer is next to a server rack with "The Gibson" proudly written on the front - "Hacking the Gibson" being a reference to the 1995 cult film "Hackers" and in turn to the cyberpunk author William Gibson.

Above it is an old 1980s British Telecom payphone - kept in case someone wants to hack it - maybe turn it into an art piece or something one day.

Below are many dustballs. This room is part of a collective, and (like any shared living space) agreeing voluntary cleaning duties is difficult.

The room hasn't yet reached the level of gross which will offend someone into cleaning. Someone bought and repaired a cheap robot vacuum cleaner as a solution, but someone added a laser-cut spinning cat to the LiDAR sensor on it. This spinning cat jammed on a chair leg and broke it. The robot has just been repaired thanks to the electronics workbench in the space so maybe the dustballs will yet be conquered.

In the other room is a Juki industrial sewing machine which was scavenged from a tailor's shop. It is largely used now for making colourful furry animal outfits. This machine has an oil sump like a car engine and needs safety training. This is because it can sew through 14 pieces of leather but it can't tell the difference between leather and your hand. It has, however, been covered in colourful handmade stickers which say things like "Femboy Greggs" which make it less intimidating.

All this is in a hackerspace - one of the many places around the world where a group of people get together, stump up the cash to rent a space somewhere, and try to make a community doing creative and interesting things. These places are fun, and the disorder is part of the fun.

I don't think I can call this hosting "The Cloud" - it's too clean. "The Grunge" might feel closer, but it feels a bit disrepectful to all the people volunteering their time, building communities. I'm relying on someone who is kindly letting me use their server to host my site (thank you). The server is running open source software, written by people who I've never met but who have been part of their own chaotic communities.

I feel somehow conditioned that my writing should be like the cloud - corporate, shiny, clean, perfect. But where's the fun in that? There are plenty of shiny, clean, perfect blog-posts on the internet. Maybe if I'm not perfect then that's OK. Maybe, like the hackspaces, the disorder in writing is fun too. I'm just a beginner; I'm taking my first walking steps at experimenting with writing, rather than being an experienced marathon runner.

I love that there's a resurgence of blogging and writing on the "Indieweb". I love reading the different stories people write, learning about the things people make, and hearing different viewpoints. There's something wonderfully human about all this, and (like the hackspaces) all this difference, variety of skill and individuality is what makes it all fun.

So maybe I embrace the chaos, don't worry about perfection or criticism and see what happens. Maybe I can contribute to this wonderful, messy, creative place too.