It disappeared in the growing springtime:
\nThe trees were budding, the students back from Easter,
\nAnd comments plugged all-new baseball jerseys;
\nThe signal sank in the noise of the closing day.
\nWhat traffic stats we have agree
\nThe day of its death was a spam-filled day<\/p>\n
Far from its run-down
\nThe bloggers posted on their WordPress pages,
\nThe maker Tumblrs were untempted by the genuine crafts;
\nBy mindful tweets
\nThe death of the service was kept from the emails.<\/p>\n
But for it it was its last afternoon as itself,
\nAn afternoon of IPs and routers;
\nThe address-blocks of its data were emptied,
\nThe storage infrastructure was backed up,
\nLoad was dropped from the balancers,
\nThe flow of its data failed; it became its archives.<\/p>\n
Now it is scattered among a hundred redirects
\nAnd wholly given over to unfamiliar aliases,
\nTo find its content in another kind of index
\nAnd be cited with a foreign quote syntax.
\nThe mails of a dead system
\nAre modified in the files of the living.<\/p>\n
But in the importance and noise of to-morrow
\nWhen the flamers are trolling like toddlers in the threads of the blogs,
\nAnd the poor have the bad news to which they are fairly accustomed,
\nAnd each in his epistemic closure is almost convinced of his freedom,
\nA few thousand will think of this day
\nAs one thinks of a day when one did something worth writing a blog post on.<\/p>\n
What traffic stats we have agree
\nThe day of its death was a spam-filled day<\/p>\n
Originally posted on Making Light<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" It disappeared in the growing springtime: The trees were budding, the students back from Easter, And comments plugged all-new baseball jerseys; The signal sank in the noise of the closing day. What traffic stats we have agree The day of its death was a spam-filled day Far from its run-down The bloggers posted on their … Continue reading In Memory of Hotmail<\/span>