Code generators can be useful tools. I sometimes use the command line version of Jinja2 to generate highly redundant config files and other
text files, but it’s feature-limited for transforming data. Obviously the author of Jinja2 thinks differently,
but I wanted something like list comprehensions or D’s composable range algorithms.
I decided to make a tool that’s like Jinja2, but lets me generate complex files by transforming data with
range algorithms. The idea was dead simple: a templating language that gets rewritten directly to D code. That
way it supports everything D does, simply because it is D. I wanted a standalone code generator, but
thanks to D’s mixin feature, the same templating language works as an
embedded templating language (for HTML in a web app, for example). (For more on that trick, see this post about translating Brainfuck to D to machine code all at
compile time using mixins.)
Warning: I don’t think the stuff in this post has any direct practical application by itself (unless you’re a
nuclear war survivor and need to reconstruct maths from scratch or something). Sometimes I like to go back to
basics, though. Here’s a look at and areas of curved shapes without any calculus or transcendental functions.
If you do any server administration work, you’ll have worked with log files. And if your servers need to be
reliable, you’ll know that log files are common source of problems, especially when you need to rotate or ship
them (which is practically always). In particular, moving files around causes race conditions.
Thankfully, there are better ways. With named pipes, you can have a simple and robust logging stack, with no
race conditions, and without patching your servers to support some network logging protocol.
Because D was originally created by a C++ compiler writer, Walter Bright, it’s an easy language for C and C++ programmers to learn, but there
are little differences in the way declarations work. I learned them piecemeal in different places, but I’m going
to dump a bunch in this one post.
About five years ago now, I handed in my Google employee badge and walked out of the Sydney Google office to
start a new life of self-employment. I figured I should write up this story because I got a lot out of reading
Michael Lynch’s. As you can see, it’s still taken me a couple
of years to get around to writing this post, but I finally told myself that if I don’t write it for the fifth
anniversary, I never will.
This post is kind of long, but I hope it has something useful for new developers who are interested in working
at a big tech company, or for big company employees who are wondering what it’s like to quit. I’ll talk about my
story of getting into, working at and quitting Google, and what I’ve done since. Feel free to ask if you want
more detail about something, though I already have a lot of blog posts to write, so I can’t promise anything
in-depth straight away.
Also, at the risk of labouring the obvious: I haven’t worked at Google for five years, so don’t take this
story as a literal description of Google today or what all Google employees experience. However, I think a lot of
it’s still relevant to tech careers in general.
Pseudorandom number generators (PRNGs) are often treated like a compromise: their output isn’t as good as real
random number generators, but they’re cheap and easy to use on computer hardware. But a special feature of PRNGs
is that they’re reproducible sources of random-looking data:
Explicitly close files and sockets when done with them. Leaving files, sockets or other file-like objects
open unnecessarily has many downsides […]
The article’s main complaint is that “this advice is applying a notably higher standard of premature
optimization to file descriptors than to any other kind of resource”. It complains that it’s “depressingly
commonplace” to see code like this:
Sure, if it’s a one-off read of a doc file, you can almost certainly get away with just open("README.md").read(), but I honestly have no idea what’s
depressing about code that just works reliably.
Leaving files and sockets open is something that you can usually get away with, until weird stuff happens.
And, no, it’s not just about running out of file descriptors (although that does happen, too). I’ve previously
written about servers that mysteriously ran out of disk space because
(spoiler) they were deleting files that hadn’t been closed properly. Regardless of how awesome your computer
and network equipment are, the number of TCP connections you can make to a given host and port are limited by a
16 bit integer (and practically always limited more by your network settings), then you get
network failures. Writing to files that you don’t explicitly close (or flush) is especially dicey — the write
might actually happen straight away, then on another day or another environment it might get delayed.
Sure, these failure modes aren’t very common, but they definitely happen. I can think of three examples right
now from the past few years of my day job. Closing files as a habit is easier than figuring out when it’ll go
The article has an example of a function that lazily loads JSON given a file path string. Sure, it doesn’t
work properly if you close the file inside the function, but I’d say the problem is in the API design: the file
handle resource straddles the interface.
The first good alternative is to keep the file handle completely inside: take a path argument, load the data
eagerly, close the file and return the parsed data. The other good alternative is to keep the file handle
completely outside: take a file handle as argument and return it wrapped in a lazy JSON parser. Either way makes
it easier to see how and where the file should be closed.
The Google advice is pretty solid: when you’re done with a file or socket, just close it. I’ll add: sure,
maybe it won’t always be obvious when you’re done with a handle, but perhaps that code design is making life more
“exciting” than necessary. Production failures are more depressing than file closing code ever will be.
For obvious reasons, I normally write abstractly about work I’ve done for other people, but I’ve been given
permission to write about a website, Vocal, that I did some SRE work on last
year. I actually gave a presentation at
GraphQL Sydney back in February, but for various reasons it’s taken me this long to get it into a blog
Vocal is a GraphQL-based website that got traction and hit scaling problems that I got called in to fix.
Here’s what I did. Obviously, you’ll find this post useful if you’re scaling another GraphQL website, but most of
it’s representative of what you have to deal with when a site gets enough traffic to cause technical problems. If
website scalability is a key interest of yours, you might want to read my recent post about scalability first.
This still isn’t the blog post I said I was going to write about now, but I figured some game theory would
make a good post at the moment, especially when a lot of people I know are working at home with kids who need
entertaining. Here’s some stuff about a traditional Japanese kids’ game called Glico, a form of weighted Rock
Paper Scissors (RPS).