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鏈鏂扮殑HTTP1.1(rfc2626)涓枃緲昏瘧淇鐗堢炕璇戝涓嬶細(xì)
http://m.tkk7.com/sunchaojin/archive/2009/05/31/279164.html
Internet鏄寚“浜掕繛緗?#8221;錛屽ソ璞¤繖鍙ヨ瘽璇寸殑鏈夌偣澶氫綑錛屼笉榪囩‘瀹炴湁寰堝浜哄浠栨湁閿欒鐨勭悊瑙o紝“浜掕繛緗?#8221;鏄寚涓涓釜緗戠粶浜掕繛錛岃屼笉鏄儚鏈変簺浜烘兂璞$殑閭f牱鎶婁竴鍙板彴鐢?shù)鑴戞潅湄曟棤绔犵殑浜挊q炪傚綋鎴戜滑闇瑕佺敤鐢?shù)鑴戝拰杩滄柟鐨勭數(shù)鑴戦氳鐨勬椂鍊欙紝鍏堟妸鏈湴鐢?shù)鑴懢l勬垚涓涓綉緇滐紝褰撶劧錛岃繙鏂圭殑鐢?shù)鑴戜篃瑕伨l勬垚涓涓綉緇滐紝鍦ㄦ妸榪欎袱涓綉緇?#8220;浜掕繛”璧鋒潵錛岀粍鎴?#8220;浜掕繛緗?#8221;銆傜敤鐢?shù)璇澗U垮拰MODEM鎷ㄥ彿涓婄綉鐨勬椂鍊欐槸閫氳繃鐢?shù)璇澗U垮厛鎶婅嚜宸辯殑鐢?shù)鑴憳q炲埌ISP錛圛nternet Service Provider 緗戠粶鏈嶅姟鎻愪緵鍟嗭級(jí)鐨勭綉緇滀腑錛屽啀緇忚繃ISP鐨勭綉緇滃拰涓栫晫鍚勫湴鐨勭數(shù)鑴戦氫俊銆?br />
2錛岀數(shù)鑴戝浣曢氳繃緗戠粶浼犻掓暟鎹紵
姣忎竴涓綉緇滈渶瑕佷竴涓綉緇滃湴鍧錛岀綉緇滀腑鐨勭數(shù)鑴戦渶瑕佷竴涓湪緗戠粶涓敮涓紜畾鐨勬爣璇嗭紝緗戠粶鍙峰拰鐢?shù)鑴戠殑鏍囪瘑鍙肪l勬垚浜?jiǎn)IP鍦板潃錛屾墍浠P鍦板潃鏄敱緗戠粶鍙峰拰涓繪満鍙風(fēng)粍鎴愮殑銆傚綋浣犵殑鐢?shù)鑴戣鍜屽叾浠栫殑鐢?shù)鑴戦氫俊鐨勬椂鍊欙紝鐢?shù)鑴戜細(xì)鍏堟犚?guī)嵁IP鍦板潃鍜屽瓙緗戞帺鐮佺‘瀹氱洰鏍囦富鏈烘槸鍦ㄦ湰鍦扮綉緇滀腑榪樻槸鍦ㄨ繙紼嬬綉緇滀腑錛屽鏋滃湪鏈湴緗戠粶涓垯鐩存帴鎶婁竴涓寘鍚俊鎭殑IP鏁版嵁鍖呭彂閫佸埌鏈湴緗戠粶涓婏紝鐩爣涓繪満浼?xì)妫嫻嬪埌騫舵帴鏀訛紝濡傛灉鐩爣涓繪満鍦ㄨ繙紼嬬綉緇滃垯闇瑕侀氳繃涓鍙拌縐頒負(fù)緗戝叧鐨勭殑鐢?shù)鑴戣浆鍙戝埌杩溄E嬬綉緇滐紝緗戝叧錛坓eteway錛夊彲浠ョ湅鍋氭槸榪炴帴緗戠粶鍜岀綉緇滅殑妗ユ錛岀綉鍏崇殑姒傚康寰堝箍錛岃繖閲屼負(fù)浜?jiǎn)绠鍖栬搗瑙侊紝鎴戜滑鏆備笖璁や負(fù)瀹冨拰璺敱鍣ㄦ槸鍚屼竴涓蹇點(diǎn)傝礬鐢卞櫒錛坮outer錛夋槸涓縐嶈繛鎺ョ綉緇滃拰緗戠粶錛屽茍閫夋嫨IP鏁版嵁鍖呬紶閫佺殑璺緞鐨勪竴鍙扮壒孌婅綆楁満銆傚緢澶氭儏鍐典笅緗戝叧鐨勬蹇電瓑鍚屼簬璺敱鍣ㄣ?br />
3錛岀綉緇滀腑鐢?shù)鑴戠殑IP鍦板潃鏈変綍瑕佹眰錛?br />
鍦ㄥ悓涓涓綉緇滀腑錛屾瘡鍙扮數(shù)鑴戝繀欏誨叿鏈夌浉鍚岀殑緗戠粶鍙鳳紝榪欐牱鐢?shù)鑴戞墠璁や负鐩爣涓绘満鏄湪鏈|戠粶涓茍涓斿彲浠ユ紜佽揪錛屽鏋滅綉緇滃彿涓嶅悓,鍗充嬌鐩爣涓繪満宸茬粡鐢ㄧ綉綰胯繛鍒版湰緗戠粶涓暟鎹篃涓嶈兘鐩存帴閫佽揪,鍗充嬌榪欎袱鍙扮數(shù)鑴戣繎鍦ㄥ挮灝?鍦ㄧ數(shù)鑴戠湅鏉ヤ粛鏃ф槸涓鍙拌繙紼嬬數(shù)鑴?姣斿涓涓綉緇滅殑緗戠粶鍙蜂負(fù)192.168.0錛屽垯璇ョ綉緇滀腑鐨勮綆楁満鐨処P鍦板潃蹇呴』浠?92.168.0寮澶淬傚亣濡傝浼犻佷竴涓暟鎹寘鍒扮綉緇滃彿涓?92.168.1鐨勭綉緇滐紝鍒欏繀欏婚氳繃璺敱鍣ㄨ漿鍙戯紝濡傛灉璇ョ綉緇滀腑娌℃湁璺敱鍣紝鍒欏彂閫佸け璐ャ傚洜姝わ紝涓轟簡(jiǎn)榪炴帴涓や釜緗戠粶錛屼竴鍙拌礬鍙堝櫒鑷沖皯瑕佹湁涓や釜緗戠粶鎺ュ彛錛堢綉鍗°佽皟鍒惰В璋冨櫒絳夎仈緗戣澶囩О涓虹綉緇滄帴鍙o級(jí)銆傜綉緇滃拰璺敱鍣ㄧ殑鍏崇郴瑙佷笅鍥撅細(xì)
| 緗戠粶A
| | 璺敱鍣?/span>
| | 緗戠粶B |
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鍥?涓
鍥句腑鐨勫皬鏂規(guī)琛ㄧず緗戝崱鎴栧叾浠栫綉緇滄帴鍙c?br />
鍙互鐪嬪埌璺敱鍣ㄨ嚦灝戞湁涓や釜緗戠粶鎺ュ彛銆?br />
鍋囪緗戠粶A鐨勫湴鍧涓?92.168.0 緗戝崱1鐨勫湴鍧涓?92.168.0.1
緗戠粶B鐨勫湴鍧涓?92.168.1 緗戝崱4鐨勫湴鍧涓?92.168.1.1
鍒欒礬鐢卞櫒涓婄殑緗戝崱2蹇呴』灞炰簬緗戠粶 192.168.0 鍦板潃涓?92.168.0.x 錛坸涓轟換鎰忓皬浜?55鐨勬暟錛?br />
璺敱鍣ㄤ笂鐨勭綉鍗?蹇呴』灞炰簬緗戠粶 192.168.1 鍦板潃涓?92.168.1.x 錛坸涓轟換鎰忓皬浜?55鐨勬暟錛?br />
灝辨槸璇達(dá)紝璺敱鍣ㄦ棦灞炰簬緗戠粶A錛屽張灞炰簬緗戠粶B錛岃繖鏍鋒墠璧峰埌妗ユ鐨勪綔鐢ㄣ?br />
褰撴暟鎹粠緗戠粶A鍙戝線緗戠粶B鏃訛紝璺敱鍣ㄤ粠緗戝崱2鎺ユ敹鏁版嵁錛岀粡榪囨敼瑁呭悗閫氳繃緗戝崱3鍙戦佹暟鎹埌緗戠粶B銆?br />
榪欐牱錛屾垜浠О緗戝崱2鐨勫湴鍧 192.168.0.x涓虹綉緇淎鐨勭綉鍏?br />
緗戝崱3鐨勫湴鍧 192.168.1.x涓虹綉緇淏鐨勭綉鍏?br />
Can you still find this day, my dear, among your possessions?
Among the souvenirs of your trips to faraway lands, the textbooks from those halcyon days when you walked the hallowed portals of that engineering college, the cassettes whose covers were left behind after one of those bacchanalian sessions in the hostel, the photographs of those classmates whose names you can't remember? Or is it hidden in the darkness, put out of sight along with the book you bought but never read, the gift you never quite found a use for and the letters you never finished or sent.
I can still find it here, in the city, in the house which you have never visited, in the kitchen where I have imaginary conversations with you. It is here even when I am not, for I go out now, leaving the light on and the music playing, so I can return home to the illusion of company.
I am probably better off now. Without secrets to keep from my parents. Without someone to come between me and my friends, me and my pastimes, me and my work, me and my sensible, understandable, utilitarian life. The life that I keep trying, keep failing to bring in line with the expectations that I keep trying, keep failing to make my own.
It is not that I always feel like this, sometimes I yearn for those days when tears and laughter both came easy. Those easy and quick transitions from ecstasy to despair. When a compliment could keep my mind occupied for hours on end and a harsh word could prick like a pin the same skin which now seems dry and insensitive. Like probably millions around the world, I look outside the window of a crowded bus, lost in my own thoughts and wonder how it could happen to me.
Was I not supposed to be different from the rest? Not for the silly schoolgirl infatuation with the football team captain or the fascination with the good for nothing, pot-smoking aspiring poet. Ours was a mature friendship that had blossomed into more. How could I feel a pang of envy then, when you lent a helping hand to another girl, when you spoke about someone who's far away and about to be married, when you were so involved in the book you were reading that you did not notice that we never met all day?
When we decided that it had been too long and that we should meet, I carefully started preparing a package for you. A small poem, that book you always wanted but never found, an old photograph and a bar of chocolate for us to share. What would I wear and what would we talk about? The package still remains in my drawer waiting for the phone to ring again.
It was a rainy Sunday afternoon when we sat in my tiny hostel room, discussing capitalism and campus gossip with equal fervor. When it seemed as if those conversations could last forever and we would never tire of them. When Joni Mitchell sang "California" seven times on continuous play before we thought of getting out.
Then one day suddenly we were looking for each other. You were always somewhere else, doing something else and strangely enough so was I. Those new people I met on that trip and that junior guy who loved the same movies I do. That girl next door who took math lessons from you. My room was almost always locked and yours was no different. We seemed to have discovered a whole world outside of ourselves all of a sudden. The tragedy was we had also lost the world we had before.
Then came the rescue mission. The loud fights in the hostel wing, the long silences and the desperate angry notes. Frustration, anxiety and even love revealing itself in the ugliest possible ways. Then indifference, complacency and resignation. Calm, dispassionate discussions on how we could stay friends. The decision that we should always let the other know when we would be around. That's when I started leaving those yellow post-its on the door. Those yellow post-its which by the time I came back would have your coordinates that I never used. If we had all of them now, they would be telling this tale a lot better than I am now.
Back home, I still continue leaving those post-its to this day, hoping that someone will write their whereabouts on them as well.