I thought it had been a full year since I last shared a
playlist, but it's been two! I had
a plan to produce more, but it seems I haven't. Instead here's a
few tracks I've discovered recently which share a common theme.
In August I stumbled across a Sound on Sound video interviewing
Pete Cannon, who creates authentically old-school Jungle music
using tools and techniques from the time, including AKAI samplers
and the Commodore Amiga computer.
To ease my nerves, I struck up a conversation with a man seated nearby who was
also traveling to Abu Dhabi for work. He provided helpful information about
safety and transportation in Abu Dhabi, which reassured me. With the boarding
process complete and my anxiety somewhat eased. I found my window seat on the
flight and settled in, excited for the journey ahead. Next to me was a young
man from Ranchi(Zarkhand, India), heading to Abu Dhabi for work at a mining
factory. We had an engaging conversation about work culture in Abu Dhabi and
recruitment from India.
Upon arriving in Abu Dhabi, I completed my transit, collected my luggage, and
began finding my way to the hotel Premier Inn AbuDhabi,
which was in the airport area. To my surprise, I ran into the same man from the
flight, now in a cab. He kindly offered to drop me at my hotel, which I gladly
accepted since navigating an unfamiliar city with a short acquaintance felt
safer.
At the hotel gate, he asked if I had local currency (Dirhams) for payment,
as sometimes online transactions can fail. That hadn t crossed my mind, and
I realized I might be left stranded if a transaction failed. Recognizing his
help as a godsend, I asked if he could lend me some Dirhams, promising to
transfer the amount later. He kindly assured me to pay him back once I
reached the hotel room. With that relief, I checked into the hotel, feeling
deeply grateful for the unexpected assistance and transferred the money to
him after getting to my room.
I reached Tirana, Albania after a six hours flight, feeling exhausted and I was
suffering from a headache. The air pressure had blocked my ears, and jet lag
added to my fatigue. After collecting my checked luggage, I headed to the first
ATM machine at the airport. Struggling to insert my card, I asked a nearby
gentleman for help. He tried his best, but my card got stuck inside the
machine. Panic set in as I worried about how I would survive without money.
Taking a deep breath, I found an airport employee and explained the situation.
The gentleman stayed with me, offering support and repeatedly apologizing for
his mistake. However, it wasn t his fault, the ATM was out of order, which I
hadn t noticed. My focus was solely on retrieving my ATM card. The airport
employee worked diligently, using a hairpin to carefully extract my card.
Finally, the card was freed, and I felt an immense sense of relief, grateful
for the help of these kind strangers. I used another ATM, successfully withdrew
money, and then went to an airport mobile SIM shop to buy a new SIM card for
local internet and connectivity.
I found my top bunk bed, only to realize I had booked a mixed-gender
dormitory. This detail had completely escaped my notice during the booking
process. I felt unsure about how to handle the situation. Coincidentally,
my experience mirrored what Kangana faced in the movie Queen .
Feeling acidic due to an empty stomach and the exhaustion of heavy
traveling, I wasn t up to cooking in the hostel s kitchen.
I asked the front desk about the nearest restaurant. It was nearly 9:30 PM,
and the streets were deserted. To avoid any mishaps like in the movie
Queen, I kept my passport securely locked in my bag, ensuring it wouldn t
be a victim of theft.
Venturing out for dinner, I felt uneasy on the quiet streets. I eventually
found a restaurant recommended by the hostel, but the menu was almost
entirely non-vegetarian. I struggled to ask about vegetarian options and was
uncertain if any dishes contained eggs, as some people consider eggs to be
vegetarian. Feeling frustrated and unsure, I left the restaurant without
eating.
I noticed a nearby grocery store that was about to close and managed to get
a few extra minutes to shop. I bought some snacks, wafers, milk, and tea
bags (though I couldn t find tea powder to make Indian-style tea). Returning
to the hostel, I made do with wafers, cookies, and milk for dinner. That day
was incredibly tough for me, I filled with exhaustion and struggle in a new
country, I was on the verge of tears .
I made a video call home before sleeping on the top bunk bed. It was a new
experience for me, sharing a room with both unknown men and women. I kept my
passport safe inside my purse and under my pillow while sleeping, staying
very conscious about its security.
I took a bus from Shkod r to the southern part of Albania, heading to
Sarand . The journey lasted about five to six hours, and I had booked a stay
at Mona s Hostel. Upon arrival, I met Eliza from America, and we went
together to Ksamil Beach, spending a wonderful day there.
| Series: | Fall Revolution #3 |
| Publisher: | Tor |
| Copyright: | 1998 |
| Printing: | August 2000 |
| ISBN: | 0-8125-6858-3 |
| Format: | Mass market |
| Pages: | 305 |
Life is a process of breaking down and using other matter, and if need be, other life. Therefore, life is aggression, and successful life is successful aggression. Life is the scum of matter, and people are the scum of life. There is nothing but matter, forces, space and time, which together make power. Nothing matters, except what matters to you. Might makes right, and power makes freedom. You are free to do whatever is in your power, and if you want to survive and thrive you had better do whatever is in your interests. If your interests conflict with those of others, let the others pit their power against yours, everyone for theirselves. If your interests coincide with those of others, let them work together with you, and against the rest. We are what we eat, and we eat everything. All that you really value, and the goodness and truth and beauty of life, have their roots in this apparently barren soil. This is the true knowledge. We had founded our idealism on the most nihilistic implications of science, our socialism on crass self-interest, our peace on our capacity for mutual destruction, and our liberty on determinism. We had replaced morality with convention, bravery with safety, frugality with plenty, philosophy with science, stoicism with anaesthetics and piety with immortality. The universal acid of the true knowledge had burned away a world of words, and exposed a universe of things. Things we could use.This is certainly something that some people will believe, particularly cynical college students who love political theory, feeling smarter than other people, and calling their pet theories things like "the true knowledge." It is not even remotely believable as the governing philosophy of a solar confederation. The point of government for the average person in human society is to create and enforce predictable mutual rules that one can use as a basis for planning and habits, allowing you to not think about politics all the time. People who adore thinking about politics have great difficulty understanding how important it is to everyone else to have ignorable government. Constantly testing your power against other coalitions is a sport, not a governing philosophy. Given the implication that this testing is through violence or the threat of violence, it beggars belief that any large number of people would tolerate that type of instability for an extended period of time. Ellen is fully committed to the true knowledge. MacLeod likely is not; I don't think this represents the philosophy of the author. But the primary political conflict in this novel famous for being political science fiction is between the above variation of anarchy and an anarchocapitalist society, neither of which are believable as stable political systems for large numbers of people. This is a bit like seeking out a series because you were told it was about a great clash of European monarchies and discovering it was about a fight between Liberland and Sealand. It becomes hard to take the rest of the book seriously. I do realize that one point of political science fiction is to play with strange political ideas, similar to how science fiction plays with often-implausible science ideas. But those ideas need some contact with human nature. If you're going to tell me that the key to clawing society back from a world-wide catastrophic descent into chaos is to discard literally every social system used to create predictability and order, you had better be describing aliens, because that's not how humans work. The rest of the book is better. I am untangling a lot of backstory for the above synopsis, which in the book comes in dribs and drabs, but piecing that together is good fun. The plot is far more straightforward than the previous two books in the series: there is a clear enemy, a clear goal, and Ellen goes from point A to point B in a comprehensible way with enough twists to keep it interesting. The core moral conflict of the book is that Ellen is an anti-AI fanatic to the point that she considers anyone other than non-uploaded humans to be an existential threat. MacLeod gives the reader both reasons to believe Ellen is right and reasons to believe she's wrong, which maintains an interesting moral tension. One thing that MacLeod is very good at is what Bob Shaw called "wee thinky bits." I think my favorite in this book is the computer technology used by the Cassini Division, who have spent a century in close combat with inimical AI capable of infecting any digital computer system with tailored viruses. As a result, their computers are mechanical non-Von-Neumann machines, but mechanical with all the technology of a highly-advanced 24th century civilization with nanometer-scale manufacturing technology. It's a great mental image and a lot of fun to think about. This is the only science fiction novel that I can think of that has a hard-takeoff singularity that nonetheless is successfully resisted and fought to a stand-still by unmodified humanity. Most writers who were interested in the singularity idea treated it as either a near-total transformation leaving only remnants or as something that had to be stopped before it started. MacLeod realizes that there's no reason to believe a post-singularity form of life would be either uniform in intent or free from its own baffling sudden collapses and reversals, which can be exploited by humans. It makes for a much better story. The sociology of this book is difficult to swallow, but the characterization is significantly better than the previous books of the series and the plot is much tighter. I was too annoyed by the political science to fully enjoy it, but that may be partly the fault of my expectations coming in. If you like chewy, idea-filled science fiction with a lot of unexplained world-building that you have to puzzle out as you go, you may enjoy this, although unfortunately I think you need to read at least The Stone Canal first. The ending was a bit unsatisfying, but even that includes some neat science fiction ideas. Followed by The Sky Road, although I understand it is not a straightforward sequel. Rating: 6 out of 10
After my father passed away, I brought home most of the personal items
he had, both at home and at his office. Among many, many (many, many,
many) other things, I brought two of his personal treasures: His photo
collection and a box with the 8mm movies he shot approximately between
1956 and 1989, when he was forced into modernity and got a portable
videocassette recorder.
I have talked with several friends, as I really want to get it all in
a digital format, and while I ve been making slow but steady advances
scanning the photo reels, I was particularly dismayed (even though it
was most expected most personal electronic devices aren t meant to
last over 50 years) to find out the 8mm projector was no longer in
working conditions; the lamp and the fans work, but the spindles won t
spin. Of course, it is quite likely it is easy to fix, but it is
beyond my tinkering abilities and finding photographic equipment
repair shops is no longer easy. Anyway, even if I got it fixed,
filming a movie from a screen, even with a decent camera, is a lousy
way to get it digitized.
But almost by mere chance, I got in contact with my cousin Daniel, ho
came to Mexico to visit his parents, and had precisely brought with
him a 8mm/Super8 movie scanner! It is a much simpler piece of
equipment than I had expected, and while it does present some minor
glitches (i.e. the vertical framing slightly loses alignment over the
course of a medium-length film scanning session, and no adjustment is
possible while the scan is ongoing), this is something
that can be decently fixed in post-processing, and a scanning session
can be split with no ill effects. Anyway, it is quite uncommon a
mid-length (5min) film can be done without interrupting i.e. to join a
splice, mostly given my father didn t just film, but also edited a lot
(this is, it s not just family pictures, but all different kinds of
fiction and documentary work he did).
So, Daniel lent me a great, brand new, entry-level film scanner; I
rushed to scan as many movies as possible before his return to the USA
this week, but he insisted he bought it to help preserve our family s
memory, and given we are still several cousins living in Mexico, I
could keep hold of it so any other of the cousins will find it more
easily. Of course, I am thankful and delighted!
So, this equipment is a Magnasonic FS81. It is entry-level, as it
lacks some adjustment abilities a professional one would surely have,
and I m sure a better scanner will make the job faster but it s
infinitely superior to not having it!
The scanner processes roughly two frames per second (while the nominal
8mm/Super8 speed is 24 frames per second), so a 3 minute film reel
takes a bit over 35 minutes And a long, ~20 minute film reel
takes Close to 4hr, if nothing gets in your way :- And yes, with
longer reels, the probability of a splice breaking are way higher than
with a short one not only because there is simply a longer film to
process, but also because, both at the unwinding and at the receiving
reels, mechanics play their roles.
The films don t advance smoothly, but jump to position each frame in
the scanner s screen, so every bit of film gets its fair share of
gentle tugs.
My professional consultant on how and what to do is my good friend
Chema
Serralde,
who has stopped me from doing several things I would regret later
otherwise (such as joining spliced tapes with acidic chemical
adhesives such as Kola Loka, a.k.a. Krazy Glue even if it s a
bit trickier to do it, he insisted me on best using simple transparent
tape if I m not buying fancy things such as film-adhesive). Chema also
explained me the importance of the loopers (las Lupes in his
technical Spanish translation), which I feared increased the
likelihood of breaking a bit of old glue due to the angle in which the
film gets pulled but if skipped, result in films with too much
jumping.
Not all of the movies I have are for public sharing Some of them are
just family movies, with high personal value, but probably of very
little interest to others. But some are! I have been uploading some of
the movies, after minor post-processing, to the Internet
Archive. Among them:
Anyway, I have a long way forward for scanning. I have 20 3min reels,
19 5min reels, and 8 20min reels. I want to check the scanning
quality, but I think my 20min reels are mostly processed (we paid for
scanning them some years ago). I mostly finished the 3min reels, but
might have to go over some of them again due to the learning process.
And Well, I m having quite a bit of fun in the process!
| Series: | Discworld #26 |
| Publisher: | Harper |
| Copyright: | May 2001 |
| Printing: | August 2014 |
| ISBN: | 0-06-230739-8 |
| Format: | Mass market |
| Pages: | 420 |
As many of you know, I work at UNAM, Mexico s largest university. My
work is split in two parts: My full-time job is to be the systems
and network administrator at the Economics Research
Institute, and I do some hours of teaching
at the Engineering Faculty.
At the Institute, my role is academic but although I have tried to
frame my works in a way amenable to analysis grounded on the Social
Sciences (Construcci n Colaborativa del
Conocimiento, Hecho con Creative
Commons, Mecanismos de privacidad y
anonimato), so far, I have not taken
part of academic collaboration with my coworkers Economics is a
field very far from my interests, to somehow illustrate it. I was very
happy when I was invited to be a part of a Seminar on The Digital
Economy in the age of Artificial Intelligence . I talked with the
coordinator, and we agreed we have many Economic Science experts but
understanding what does Artificial Intelligence mean eludes then, so
I will be writing one of the introductory chapters to this analysis.
But Hey, I m no expert in Artificial Intelligence. If anything, I
could be categorized as an AI-skeptical! Well, at least I might be the
closest thing at hand in the Institute So I have been thinking
about what I will be writing, and finding and reading material to
substantiate what I ll be writing.
One of the readings I determined early on I would be going back to is
Terry Winograd and Fernando Flores 1986 book, Understanding
Computers and Cognition: A New Foundation for
Design (oh, were
you expecting a link to buy
it
instead of reading it online?)
I first came across this book by mere chance. Back in the last day of
year 2000, my friend Ariel invited me and my then-girlfriend to tag
along and travel by land to the USA to catch some just-after-Christmas
deals in San Antonio. I was not into shopping, but have always enjoyed
road trips, so we went together. We went, yes, to the never-ending
clothing shops, but we also went to some big libraries And the
money I didn t spend at other shops, I spent there. And then some
more.
There was a little, somewhat oldish book that caught my eye. And I ll
be honest: I looked at this book only because it was obviously
produced by the LaTeX typesetting
system (the basics of which I learnt
in 1983, and with which I have written well, basically everything
substantial I ve ever done).
I remember I read this book with most interest back in that year, and
finished it with a Wow, that was a strange trip! And Although I
have never done much that could be considered AI-related, this has
always been my main reference. But not for explaining what is a
perceptron, how is an expert system to ponder the weight of given
information, or whether a neural network is convolutional or
recurrent, or how to turn from a network trained to recognize feature
x into a generational network. No, our book is not
technical. Well Not in that sense.
This book tackles cognition. But in order to discuss cognition, it
must first come to a proper definition of it. And to do so, it has to
base itself on philosophy, starting by noting the author s
disagreement with what they term as the rationalistic tradition:
what we have come to term valid reasoning in Western
countries. Their main claim is that the rationalistic tradition
cannot properly explain a process as complex as cognition (how much
bolder can you be than proposing something like this?). So, this book
presents many constructs of Heidggerian origin, aiming to explain what
it is understanding and being. In doing so, it follows Humberto
Maturana s work. Maturana is also a philosopher, but comes from a
background in biology he published works on animal neurophysiology
that are also presented here.
Writing this, I must ensure you I am not a philosopher, and lack
field-specific knowledge to know whether this book is so unique. I
know from the onset it does not directly help me to write the chapter
I will be writing (but it will surely help me write some important
caveats that will make the chapter much more interesting and different
to what anybody with a Web browser could write about artificial
intelligence).
One last note: Although very well written, and notable for bringing
hard to grasp concepts to mere technical staff as myself, this is
not light, easy reading. I started re-reading this book a couple of
weeks ago, and have just finished chapter 5 (page 69). As some
reviewers state, this is one of those books you have to go back a
paragraph or two over and over. But it is a most enjoyable and
interesting reading.
As a follow-up to yesterday's post detailing my favourite works of fiction from 2022, today I'll be listing my favourite fictional works that are typically filed under classics.
Books that just missed the cut here include: E. M. Forster's A Room with a View (1908) and his later A Passage to India (1913), both gently nudged out by Forster's superb Howard's End (see below). Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa's The Leopard (1958) also just missed out on a write-up here, but I can definitely recommend it to anyone interested in reading a modern Italian classic.
War and Peace (1867) Leo Tolstoy It's strange to think that there is almost no point in reviewing this novel: who hasn't heard of War and Peace? What more could possibly be said about it now? Still, when I was growing up, War and Peace was always the stereotypical example of the 'impossible book', and even start it was, at best, a pointless task, and an act of hubris at worst. And so there surely exists a parallel universe in which I never have and will never will read the book... Nevertheless, let us try to set the scene. Book nine of the novel opens as follows:
On the twelfth of June, 1812, the forces of Western Europe crossed the Russian frontier and war began; that is, an event took place opposed to human reason and to human nature. Millions of men perpetrated against one another such innumerable crimes, frauds, treacheries, thefts, forgeries, issues of false money, burglaries, incendiarisms and murders as in whole centuries are not recorded in the annals of all the law courts of the world, but which those who committed them did not at the time regard as being crimes. What produced this extraordinary occurrence? What were its causes? [ ] The more we try to explain such events in history reasonably, the more unreasonable and incomprehensible they become to us.Set against the backdrop of the Napoleonic Wars and Napoleon's invasion of Russia, War and Peace follows the lives and fates of three aristocratic families: The Rostovs, The Bolkonskys and the Bezukhov's. These characters find themselves situated athwart (or against) history, and all this time, Napoleon is marching ever closer to Moscow. Still, Napoleon himself is essentially just a kind of wallpaper for a diverse set of personal stories touching on love, jealousy, hatred, retribution, naivety, nationalism, stupidity and much much more. As Elif Batuman wrote earlier this year, "the whole premise of the book was that you couldn t explain war without recourse to domesticity and interpersonal relations." The result is that Tolstoy has woven an incredibly intricate web that connects the war, noble families and the everyday Russian people to a degree that is surprising for a book started in 1865. Tolstoy's characters are probably timeless (especially the picaresque adventures and constantly changing thoughts Pierre Bezukhov), and the reader who has any social experience will immediately recognise characters' thoughts and actions. Some of this is at a 'micro' interpersonal level: for instance, take this example from the elegant party that opens the novel:
Each visitor performed the ceremony of greeting this old aunt whom not one of them knew, not one of them wanted to know, and not one of them cared about. The aunt spoke to each of them in the same words, about their health and her own and the health of Her Majesty, who, thank God, was better today. And each visitor, though politeness prevented his showing impatience, left the old woman with a sense of relief at having performed a vexatious duty and did not return to her the whole evening.But then, some of the focus of the observations are at the 'macro' level of the entire continent. This section about cities that feel themselves in danger might suffice as an example:
At the approach of danger, there are always two voices that speak with equal power in the human soul: one very reasonably tells a man to consider the nature of the danger and the means of escaping it; the other, still more reasonably, says that it is too depressing and painful to think of the danger, since it is not in man s power to foresee everything and avert the general course of events, and it is therefore better to disregard what is painful till it comes and to think about what is pleasant. In solitude, a man generally listens to the first voice, but in society to the second.And finally, in his lengthy epilogues, Tolstoy offers us a dissertation on the behaviour of large organisations, much of it through engagingly witty analogies. These epilogues actually turn out to be an oblique and sarcastic commentary on the idiocy of governments and the madness of war in general. Indeed, the thorough dismantling of the 'great man' theory of history is a common theme throughout the book:
During the whole of that period [of 1812], Napoleon, who seems to us to have been the leader of all these movements as the figurehead of a ship may seem to a savage to guide the vessel acted like a child who, holding a couple of strings inside a carriage, thinks he is driving it. [ ] Why do [we] all speak of a military genius ? Is a man a genius who can order bread to be brought up at the right time and say who is to go to the right and who to the left? It is only because military men are invested with pomp and power and crowds of sychophants flatter power, attributing to it qualities of genius it does not possess.Unlike some other readers, I especially enjoyed these diversions into the accounting and workings of history, as well as our narrow-minded way of trying to 'explain' things in a singular way:
When an apple has ripened and falls, why does it fall? Because of its attraction to the earth, because its stalk withers, because it is dried by the sun, because it grows heavier, because the wind shakes it, or because the boy standing below wants to eat it? Nothing is the cause. All this is only the coincidence of conditions in which all vital organic and elemental events occur. And the botanist who finds that the apple falls because the cellular tissue decays and so forth is equally right with the child who stands under the tree and says the apple fell because he wanted to eat it and prayed for it.Given all of these serious asides, I was also not expecting this book to be quite so funny. At the risk of boring the reader with citations, take this sarcastic remark about the ineptness of medicine men:
After his liberation, [Pierre] fell ill and was laid up for three months. He had what the doctors termed 'bilious fever.' But despite the fact that the doctors treated him, bled him and gave him medicines to drink he recovered.There is actually a multitude of remarks that are not entirely complimentary towards Russian medical practice, but they are usually deployed with an eye to the human element involved rather than simply to the detriment of a doctor's reputation "How would the count have borne his dearly loved daughter s illness had he not known that it was costing him a thousand rubles?" Other elements of note include some stunning set literary pieces, such as when Prince Andrei encounters a gnarly oak tree under two different circumstances in his life, and when Nat sha's 'Russian' soul is awakened by the strains of a folk song on the balalaika. Still, despite all of these micro- and macro-level happenings, for a long time I felt that something else was going on in War and Peace. It was difficult to put into words precisely what it was until I came across this passage by E. M. Forster:
After one has read War and Peace for a bit, great chords begin to sound, and we cannot say exactly what struck them. They do not arise from the story [and] they do not come from the episodes nor yet from the characters. They come from the immense area of Russia, over which episodes and characters have been scattered, from the sum-total of bridges and frozen rivers, forests, roads, gardens and fields, which accumulate grandeur and sonority after we have passed them. Many novelists have the feeling for place, [but] very few have the sense of space, and the possession of it ranks high in Tolstoy s divine equipment. Space is the lord of War and Peace, not time.'Space' indeed. Yes, potential readers should note the novel's great length, but the 365 chapters are actually remarkably short, so the sensation of reading it is not in the least overwhelming. And more importantly, once you become familiar with its large cast of characters, it is really not a difficult book to follow, especially when compared to the other Russian classics. My only regret is that it has taken me so long to read this magnificent novel and that I might find it hard to find time to re-read it within the next few years.
Coming Up for Air (1939) George Orwell It wouldn't be a roundup of mine without at least one entry from George Orwell, and, this year, that place is occupied by a book I hadn't haven't read in almost two decades Still, the George Bowling of Coming Up for Air is a middle-aged insurance salesman who lives in a distinctly average English suburban row house with his nuclear family. One day, after winning some money on a bet, he goes back to the village where he grew up in order to fish in a pool he remembers from thirty years before. Less important than the plot, however, is both the well-observed remarks and scathing criticisms that Bowling has of the town he has returned to, combined with an ominous sense of foreboding before the Second World War breaks out. At several times throughout the book, George's placid thoughts about his beloved carp pool are replaced by racing, anxious thoughts that overwhelm his inner peace:
War is coming. In 1941, they say. And there'll be plenty of broken crockery, and little houses ripped open like packing-cases, and the guts of the chartered accountant's clerk plastered over the piano that he's buying on the never-never. But what does that kind of thing matter, anyway? I'll tell you what my stay in Lower Binfield had taught me, and it was this. IT'S ALL GOING TO HAPPEN. All the things you've got at the back of your mind, the things you're terrified of, the things that you tell yourself are just a nightmare or only happen in foreign countries. The bombs, the food-queues, the rubber truncheons, the barbed wire, the coloured shirts, the slogans, the enormous faces, the machine-guns squirting out of bedroom windows. It's all going to happen. I know it - at any rate, I knew it then. There's no escape. Fight against it if you like, or look the other way and pretend not to notice, or grab your spanner and rush out to do a bit of face-smashing along with the others. But there's no way out. It's just something that's got to happen.Already we can hear psychological madness that underpinned the Second World War. Indeed, there is no great story in Coming Up For Air, no wonderfully empathetic characters and no revelations or catharsis, so it is impressive that I was held by the descriptions, observations and nostalgic remembrances about life in modern Lower Binfield, its residents, and how it has changed over the years. It turns out, of course, that George's beloved pool has been filled in with rubbish, and the village has been perverted by modernity beyond recognition. And to cap it off, the principal event of George's holiday in Lower Binfield is an accidental bombing by the British Royal Air Force. Orwell is always good at descriptions of awful food, and this book is no exception:
The frankfurter had a rubber skin, of course, and my temporary teeth weren't much of a fit. I had to do a kind of sawing movement before I could get my teeth through the skin. And then suddenly pop! The thing burst in my mouth like a rotten pear. A sort of horrible soft stuff was oozing all over my tongue. But the taste! For a moment I just couldn't believe it. Then I rolled my tongue around it again and had another try. It was fish! A sausage, a thing calling itself a frankfurter, filled with fish! I got up and walked straight out without touching my coffee. God knows what that might have tasted of.Many other tell-tale elements of Orwell's fictional writing are in attendance in this book as well, albeit worked out somewhat less successfully than elsewhere in his oeuvre. For example, the idea of a physical ailment also serving as a metaphor is present in George's false teeth, embodying his constant preoccupation with his ageing. (Readers may recall Winston Smith's varicose ulcer representing his repressed humanity in Nineteen Eighty-Four). And, of course, we have a prematurely middle-aged protagonist who almost but not quite resembles Orwell himself. Given this and a few other niggles (such as almost all the women being of the typical Orwell 'nagging wife' type), it is not exactly Orwell's magnum opus. But it remains a fascinating historical snapshot of the feeling felt by a vast number of people just prior to the Second World War breaking out, as well as a captivating insight into how the process of nostalgia functions and operates.
Howards End (1910) E. M. Forster Howards End begins with the following sentence:
One may as well begin with Helen s letters to her sister.In fact, "one may as well begin with" my own assumptions about this book instead. I was actually primed to consider Howards End a much more 'Victorian' book: I had just finished Virginia Woolf's Mrs Dalloway and had found her 1925 book at once rather 'modern' but also very much constrained by its time. I must have then unconsciously surmised that a book written 15 years before would be even more inscrutable, and, with its Victorian social mores added on as well, Howards End would probably not undress itself so readily in front of the reader. No doubt there were also the usual expectations about 'the classics' as well. So imagine my surprise when I realised just how inordinately affable and witty Howards End turned out to be. It doesn't have that Wildean shine of humour, of course, but it's a couple of fields over in the English countryside, perhaps abutting the more mordant social satires of the earlier George Orwell novels (see Coming Up for Air above). But now let us return to the story itself. Howards End explores class warfare, conflict and the English character through a tale of three quite different families at the beginning of the twentieth century: the rich Wilcoxes; the gentle & idealistic Schlegels; and the lower-middle class Basts. As the Bloomsbury Group Schlegel sisters desperately try to help the Basts and educate the rich but close-minded Wilcoxes, the three families are drawn ever closer and closer together. Although the whole story does, I suppose, revolve around the house in the title (which is based on the Forster's own childhood home), Howards End is perhaps best described as a comedy of manners or a novel that shows up the hypocrisy of people and society. In fact, it is surprising how little of the story actually takes place in the eponymous house, with the overwhelming majority of the first half of the book taking place in London. But it is perhaps more illuminating to remark that the Howards End of the book is a house that the Wilcoxes who own it at the start of the novel do not really need or want. What I particularly liked about Howards End is how the main character's ideals alter as they age, and subsequently how they find their lives changing in different ways. Some of them find themselves better off at the end, others worse. And whilst it is also surprisingly funny, it still manages to trade in heavier social topics as well. This is apparent in the fact that, although the characters themselves are primarily in charge of their own destinies, their choices are still constrained by the changing world and shifting sense of morality around them. This shouldn't be too surprising: after all, Forster's novel was published just four years before the Great War, a distinctly uncertain time. Not for nothing did Virginia Woolf herself later observe that "on or about December 1910, human character changed" and that "all human relations have shifted: those between masters and servants, husbands and wives, parents and children." This process can undoubtedly be seen rehearsed throughout Forster's Howards End, and it's a credit to the author to be able to capture it so early on, if not even before it was widespread throughout Western Europe. I was also particularly taken by Forster's fertile use of simile. An extremely apposite example can be found in the description Tibby Schlegel gives of his fellow Cambridge undergraduates. Here, Timmy doesn't want to besmirch his lofty idealisation of them with any banal specificities, and wishes that the idea of them remain as ideal Platonic forms instead. Or, as Forster puts it, to Timmy it is if they are "pictures that must not walk out of their frames." Wilde, at his most weakest, is 'just' style, but Forster often deploys his flair for a deeper effect. Indeed, when you get to the end of this section mentioning picture frames, you realise Forster has actually just smuggled into the story a failed attempt on Tibby's part to engineer an anonymous homosexual encounter with another undergraduate. It is a credit to Forster's sleight-of-hand that you don't quite notice what has just happened underneath you and that the books' reticence to honestly describe what has happened is thus structually analogus Tibby's reluctance to admit his desires to himself. Another layer to the character of Tibby (and the novel as a whole) is thereby introduced without the imposition of clumsy literary scaffolding. In a similar vein, I felt very clever noticing the arch reference to Debussy's Pr lude l'apr s-midi d'un faune until I realised I just fell into the trap Forster set for the reader in that I had become even more like Tibby in his pseudo-scholarly views on classical music. Finally, I enjoyed that each chapter commences with an ironic and self-conscious bon mot about society which is only slightly overblown for effect. Particularly amusing are the ironic asides on "women" that run through the book, ventriloquising the narrow-minded views of people like the Wilcoxes. The omniscient and amiable narrator of the book also recalls those ironically distant voiceovers from various French New Wave films at times, yet Forster's narrator seems to have bigger concerns in his mordant asides: Forster seems to encourage some sympathy for all of the characters even the more contemptible ones at their worst moments. Highly recommended, as are Forster's A Room with a View (1908) and his slightly later A Passage to India (1913).
The Good Soldier (1915) Ford Madox Ford The Good Soldier starts off fairly simply as the narrator's account of his and his wife's relationship with some old friends, including the eponymous 'Good Soldier' of the book's title. It's an experience to read the beginning of this novel, as, like any account of endless praise of someone you've never met or care about, the pages of approving remarks about them appear to be intended to wash over you. Yet as the chapters of The Good Soldier go by, the account of the other characters in the book gets darker and darker. Although the author himself is uncritical of others' actions, your own critical faculties are slowgrly brought into play, and you gradully begin to question the narrator's retelling of events. Our narrator is an unreliable narrator in the strict sense of the term, but with the caveat that he is at least is telling us everything we need to know to come to our own conclusions. As the book unfolds further, the narrator's compromised credibility seems to infuse every element of the novel even the 'Good' of the book's title starts to seem like a minor dishonesty, perhaps serving as the inspiration for the irony embedded in the title of The 'Great' Gatsby. Much more effectively, however, the narrator's fixations, distractions and manner of speaking feel very much part of his dissimulation. It sometimes feels like he is unconsciously skirting over the crucial elements in his tale, exactly like one does in real life when recounting a story containing incriminating ingredients. Indeed, just how much the narrator is conscious of his own concealment is just one part of what makes this such an interesting book: Ford Madox Ford has gifted us with enough ambiguity that it is also possible that even the narrator cannot find it within himself to understand the events of the story he is narrating. It was initially hard to believe that such a carefully crafted analysis of a small group of characters could have been written so long ago, and despite being fairly easy to read, The Good Soldier is an almost infinitely subtle book even the jokes are of the subtle kind and will likely get a re-read within the next few years.
Anna Karenina (1878) Leo Tolstoy There are many similar themes running through War and Peace (reviewed above) and Anna Karenina. Unrequited love; a young man struggling to find a purpose in life; a loving family; an overwhelming love of nature and countless fascinating observations about the minuti of Russian society. Indeed, rather than primarily being about the eponymous Anna, Anna Karenina provides a vast panorama of contemporary life in Russia and of humanity in general. Nevertheless, our Anna is a sophisticated woman who abandons her empty existence as the wife of government official Alexei Karenin, a colourless man who has little personality of his own, and she turns to a certain Count Vronsky in order to fulfil her passionate nature. Needless to say, this results in tragic consequences as their (admittedly somewhat qualified) desire to live together crashes against the rocks of reality and Russian society. Parallel to Anna's narrative, though, Konstantin Levin serves as the novel's alter-protagonist. In contrast to Anna, Levin is a socially awkward individual who straddles many schools of thought within Russia at the time: he is neither a free-thinker (nor heavy-drinker) like his brother Nikolai, and neither is he a bookish intellectual like his half-brother Serge. In short, Levin is his own man, and it is generally agreed by commentators that he is Tolstoy's surrogate within the novel. Levin tends to come to his own version of an idea, and he would rather find his own way than adopt any prefabricated view, even if confusion and muddle is the eventual result. In a roughly isomorphic fashion then, he resembles Anna in this particular sense, whose story is a counterpart to Levin's in their respective searches for happiness and self-actualisation. Whilst many of the passionate and exciting passages are told on Anna's side of the story (I'm thinking horse race in particular, as thrilling as anything in cinema ), many of the broader political thoughts about the nature of the working classes are expressed on Levin's side instead. These are stirring and engaging in their own way, though, such as when he joins his peasants to mow the field and seems to enter the nineteenth-century version of 'flow':
The longer Levin mowed, the more often he felt those moments of oblivion during which it was no longer his arms that swung the scythe, but the scythe itself that lent motion to his whole body, full of life and conscious of itself, and, as if by magic, without a thought of it, the work got rightly and neatly done on its own. These were the most blissful moments.Overall, Tolstoy poses no didactic moral message towards any of the characters in Anna Karenina, and merely invites us to watch rather than judge. (Still, there is a hilarious section that is scathing of contemporary classical music, presaging many of the ideas found in Tolstoy's 1897 What is Art?). In addition, just like the earlier War and Peace, the novel is run through with a number of uncannily accurate observations about daily life:
Anna smiled, as one smiles at the weaknesses of people one loves, and, putting her arm under his, accompanied him to the door of the study.... as well as the usual sprinkling of Tolstoy's sardonic humour ("No one is pleased with his fortune, but everyone is pleased with his wit."). Fyodor Dostoyevsky, the other titan of Russian literature, once described Anna Karenina as a "flawless work of art," and if you re only going to read one Tolstoy novel in your life, it should probably be this one.
I hope you had a nice Halloween!
I've collected together some songs that I've enjoyed over the last couple of
years that loosely fit a theme: ambient, instrumental, experimental, industrial,
dark, disconcerting, etc. I've prepared a Spotify playlist of most of
them, but not all. The list is inline below as well, with many (but not all)
tracks linking to Bandcamp, if I could find them there.
This is a bit late, sorry. If anyone listens to something here and has any
feedback I'd love to hear it.
(If you are reading this on an aggregation site, it's possible the embeds won't
work. If so, click through to my main site)
Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3bEvEguRnf9U1RFrNbv5fk?si=9084cbf78c364ac8;
The list, with Bandcamp embeds where possible:
Three years ago, I organized a fun and most interesting colloquium at
Facultad de Ingenier a, UNAM about
privacy and anonymity online.
I would have loved to share this earlier with the world, but The
university s processes are quite slow (and, to be fair, I also took
quite a bit of time to push things through). But today, I m finally
happy to share the result of that work with all of you. We managed to
get 11 of the talks in the colloquium as articles. The back-cover text
reads (in Spanish):
We live in an era where human to human interactions are more and more often mediated by technology. This, of course, means everything leaves a digital trail, a trail that can follow and us relentlessly. Privacy is recognized, however, as a human right although one that is under growing threats. Anonymity is the best tool to secure it. Throughout history, clear steps have been taken legally, technically and technologically to defend it. Various studies point out this is not only a known issue for the network's users, but that a large majority has searched for alternatives to protect their communications' privacy. This book stems from a colloquium held by *Laboratorio de Investigaci n y Desarrollo de Software Libre* (LIDSOL) of Facultad de Ingenier a, UNAM, towards the end of 2018, where we invited experts from disciplines so far apart as law and systems development, psychology and economics, to contribute with their experiences to a transdisciplinary vision.If this interests you, you can get the book at our institutional repository. Oh, and What about the birds? In Spanish (Mexican only?), we have a saying, hay p jaros en el alambre , meaning watch your words, as uninvited people might be listening, as birds resting over the wires over which phone calls used to be made (back in the day where wiretapping was that easy). I found the design proposed by our editor ingenious and very fitting for our topic!
I won't reveal precisely how many books I read in 2020, but it was definitely an improvement on 74 in 2019, 53 in 2018 and 50 in 2017. But not only did I read more in a quantitative sense, the quality seemed higher as well. There were certainly fewer disappointments: given its cultural resonance, I was nonplussed by Nick Hornby's Fever Pitch and whilst Ian Fleming's The Man with the Golden Gun was a little thin (again, given the obvious influence of the Bond franchise) the booked lacked 'thinness' in a way that made it interesting to critique. The weakest novel I read this year was probably J. M. Berger's Optimal, but even this hybrid of Ready Player One late-period Black Mirror wasn't that cringeworthy, all things considered. Alas, graphic novels continue to not quite be my thing, I'm afraid.
I perhaps experienced more disappointments in the non-fiction section. Paul Bloom's Against Empathy was frustrating, particularly in that it expended unnecessary energy battling its misleading title and accepted terminology, and it could so easily have been an 20-minute video essay instead). (Elsewhere in the social sciences, David and Goliath will likely be the last Malcolm Gladwell book I voluntarily read.) After so many positive citations, I was also more than a little underwhelmed by Shoshana Zuboff's The Age of Surveillance Capitalism, and after Ryan Holiday's many engaging reboots of Stoic philosophy, his Conspiracy (on Peter Thiel and Hulk Hogan taking on Gawker) was slightly wide of the mark for me.
Anyway, here follows a selection of my favourites from 2020, in no particular order:
The disease stiffened and carried off three or four patients who were expected to recover. These were the unfortunates of the plague, those whom it killed when hope was highIt somehow captured the nostalgic yearning for high-definition videos of cities and public transport; one character even visits the completely deserted railway station in Oman simply to read the timetables on the wall.
Small, podgy, and at best middle-aged, Smiley was by appearance one of London's meek who do not inherit the earth. His legs were short, his gait anything but agile, his dress costly, ill-fitting, and extremely wet.Almost a direct rebuttal to Ian Fleming's 007, Tinker, Tailor has broken-down cars, bad clothes, women with their own internal and external lives (!), pathetically primitive gadgets, and (contra Mad Men) hangovers that significantly longer than ten minutes. In fact, the main aspect that the mostly excellent 2011 film adaption doesn't really capture is the smoggy and run-down nature of 1970s London this is not your proto-Cool Britannia of Austin Powers or GTA:1969, the city is truly 'gritty' in the sense there is a thin film of dirt and grime on every surface imaginable. Another angle that the film cannot capture well is just how purposefully the novel does not mention the United States. Despite the US obviously being the dominant power, the British vacillate between pretending it doesn't exist or implying its irrelevance to the matter at hand. This is no mistake on Le Carr 's part, as careful readers are rewarded by finding this denial of US hegemony in metaphor throughout --pace Ian Fleming, there is no obvious Felix Leiter to loudly throw money at the problem or a Sheriff Pepper to serve as cartoon racist for the Brits to feel superior about. By contrast, I recall that a clever allusion to "dusty teabags" is subtly mirrored a few paragraphs later with a reference to the installation of a coffee machine in the office, likely symbolic of the omnipresent and unavoidable influence of America. (The officer class convince themselves that coffee is a European import.) Indeed, Le Carr communicates a feeling of being surrounded on all sides by the peeling wallpaper of Empire. Oftentimes, the writing style matches the graceless and inelegance of the world it depicts. The sentences are dense and you find your brain performing a fair amount of mid-flight sentence reconstruction, reparsing clauses, commas and conjunctions to interpret Le Carr 's intended meaning. In fact, in his eulogy-cum-analysis of Le Carr 's writing style, William Boyd, himself a ventrioquilist of Ian Fleming, named this intentional technique 'staccato'. Like the musical term, I suspect the effect of this literary staccato is as much about the impact it makes on a sentence as the imperceptible space it generates after it. Lastly, the large cast in this sprawling novel is completely believable, all the way from the Russian spymaster Karla to minor schoolboy Roach the latter possibly a stand-in for Le Carr himself. I got through the 500-odd pages in just a few days, somehow managing to hold the almost-absurdly complicated plot in my head. This is one of those classic books of the genre that made me wonder why I had not got around to it before.
Perhaps his life might have veered elsewhere if the US government had opened the country to colored advancement like they opened the army. But it was one thing to allow someone to kill for you and another to let him live next door.Sardonic aper us of this kind are pretty relentless throughout the book, but it never tips its hand too far into on nihilism, especially when some of the visual metaphors are often first-rate: "An American flag sighed on a pole" is one I can easily recall from memory. In general though, The Nickel Boys is not only more world-weary in tenor than his previous novel, the United States it describes seems almost too beaten down to have the energy conjure up the Swiftian magical realism that prevented The Underground Railroad from being overly lachrymose. Indeed, even we Whitehead transports us a present-day New York City, we can't indulge in another kind of fantasy, the one where America has solved its problems:
The Daily News review described the [Manhattan restaurant] as nouveau Southern, "down-home plates with a twist." What was the twist that it was soul food made by white people?It might be overly reductionist to connect Whitehead's tonal downshift with the racial justice movements of the past few years, but whatever the reason, we've ended up with a hard-hitting, crushing and frankly excellent book.
"Earlier tonight I gave some thought to stealing a kiss from you, though you are very young, and sick and unattractive to boot, but now I am of a mind to give you five or six good licks with my belt." "One would be as unpleasant as the other."Perhaps this should be unsurprising. Maddie, a fourteen-year-old girl from Yell County, Arkansas, can barely fire her father's heavy pistol, so she can only has words to wield as her weapon. Anyway, it's not just me who treasures this book. In her encomium that presages most modern editions, Donna Tartt of The Secret History fame traces the novels origins through Huckleberry Finn, praising its elegance and economy: "The plot of True Grit is uncomplicated and as pure in its way as one of the Canterbury Tales". I've read any Chaucer, but I am inclined to agree. Tartt also recalls that True Grit vanished almost entirely from the public eye after the release of John Wayne's flimsy cinematic vehicle in 1969 this earlier film was, Tartt believes, "good enough, but doesn't do the book justice". As it happens, reading a book with its big screen adaptation as a chaser has been a minor theme of my 2020, including P. D. James' The Children of Men, Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go, Patricia Highsmith's Strangers on a Train, James Ellroy's The Black Dahlia, John Green's The Fault in Our Stars, John le Carr 's Tinker, Tailor Soldier, Spy and even a staged production of Charles Dicken's A Christmas Carol streamed from The Old Vic. For an autodidact with no academic background in literature or cinema, I've been finding this an effective and enjoyable means of getting closer to these fine books and films it is precisely where they deviate (or perhaps where they are deficient) that offers a means by which one can see how they were constructed. I've also found that adaptations can also tell you a lot about the culture in which they were made: take the 'straightwashing' in the film version of Strangers on a Train (1951) compared to the original novel, for example. It is certainly true that adaptions rarely (as Tartt put it) "do the book justice", but she might be also right to alight on a legal metaphor, for as the saying goes, to judge a movie in comparison to the book is to do both a disservice.
We're accustomed to worrying about AI systems being built that will either "go rogue" and attack us, or succeed us in a bizarre evolution of, um, evolution what we didn't reckon on is the sheer inscrutability of these manufactured minds. And minds is not a misnomer. How else should we think about the neural network Google has built so its translator can model the interrelation of all words in all languages, in a kind of three-dimensional "semantic space"?New Dark Age also turns its attention to the weird, algorithmically-derived products offered for sale on Amazon as well as the disturbing and abusive videos that are automatically uploaded by bots to YouTube. It should, by rights, be a mess of disparate ideas and concerns, but Bridle has a flair for introducing topics which reveals he comes to computer science from another discipline altogether; indeed, on a four-part series he made for Radio 4, he's primarily referred to as "an artist". Whilst New Dark Age has rather abstract section topics, Adam Greenfield's Radical Technologies is a rather different book altogether. Each chapter dissects one of the so-called 'radical' technologies that condition the choices available to us, asking how do they work, what challenges do they present to us and who ultimately benefits from their adoption. Greenfield takes his scalpel to smartphones, machine learning, cryptocurrencies, artificial intelligence, etc., and I don't think it would be unfair to say that starts and ends with a cynical point of view. He is no reactionary Luddite, though, and this is both informed and extremely well-explained, and it also lacks the lazy, affected and Private Eye-like cynicism of, say, Attack of the 50 Foot Blockchain. The books aren't a natural pair, for Bridle's writing contains quite a bit of air in places, ironically mimics the very 'clouds' he inveighs against. Greenfield's book, by contrast, as little air and much lower pH value. Still, it was more than refreshing to read two technology books that do not limit themselves to platitudinal booleans, be those dangerously naive (e.g. Kevin Kelly's The Inevitable) or relentlessly nihilistic (Shoshana Zuboff's The Age of Surveillance Capitalism). Sure, they are both anti-technology screeds, but they tend to make arguments about systems of power rather than specific companies and avoid being too anti-'Big Tech' through a narrower, Silicon Valley obsessed lens for that (dipping into some other 2020 reading of mine) I might suggest Wendy Liu's Abolish Silicon Valley or Scott Galloway's The Four. Still, both books are superlatively written. In fact, Adam Greenfield has some of the best non-fiction writing around, both in terms of how he can explain complicated concepts (particularly the smart contract mechanism of the Ethereum cryptocurrency) as well as in the extremely finely-crafted sentences I often felt that the writing style almost had no need to be that poetic, and I particularly enjoyed his fictional scenarios at the end of the book.
A better proxy for your life isn't your first home, but your last. Where you draw your last breath is more meaningful, as it's a reflection of your success and, more important, the number of people who care about your well-being. Your first house signals the meaningful your future and possibility. Your last home signals the profound the people who love you. Where you die, and who is around you at the end, is a strong signal of your success or failure in life.Nir Eyal's Indistractable, however, is a totally different kind of 'self-help' book. The important background story is that Eyal was the author of the widely-read Hooked which turned into a secular Bible of so-called 'addictive design'. (If you've ever been cornered by a techbro wielding a Wikipedia-thin knowledge of B. F. Skinner's behaviourist psychology and how it can get you to click 'Like' more often, it ultimately came from Hooked.) However, Eyal's latest effort is actually an extended mea culpa for his previous sin and he offers both high and low-level palliative advice on how to avoid falling for the tricks he so studiously espoused before. I suppose we should be thankful to capitalism for selling both cause and cure. Speaking of markets, there appears to be a growing appetite for books in this 'anti-distraction' category, and whilst I cannot claim to have done an exhausting study of this nascent field, Indistractable argues its points well without relying on accurate-but-dry "studies show..." or, worse, Gladwellian gotchas. My main criticism, however, would be that Eyal doesn't acknowledge the limits of a self-help approach to this problem; it seems that many of the issues he outlines are an inescapable part of the alienation in modern Western society, and the only way one can really avoid distraction is to move up the income ladder or move out to a 500-acre ranch.
Mushroom risotto Serves 3 as a main course. Active time: 25m. Total time: 45m. Ingredients:pic.twitter.com/9gD4OGLZDs e. hashman (@ehashdn) December 17, 2020
Beef Chili Serves 5-7. Active time: 20m. Total time: 90m. Ingredients:Cooked beans two days in a row in order to deliver this masterpiece pic.twitter.com/VzIlPKKosJ e. hashman (@ehashdn) March 3, 2020
Frequently Asked Questions Q: Why wait until basically the end to add salt?before and after pic.twitter.com/CgkeCDPOaO e. hashman (@ehashdn) March 3, 2020
This is morning. Time to fly. Two boys, happy to open the hangar door and get the plane ready.
It s been a year since I passed the FAA exam and became a pilot. Memories like these are my favorite reminders why I did. It is such fun to see people s faces light up with the joy of flying a few thousand feet above ground, of the beauty and freedom and peace of the skies.
I ve flown 14 different passengers in that time; almost every flight I ve taken has been with people, which I enjoy. I ve heard wow or beautiful so many times, and said it myself even more times.
I ve landed in two state parks, visited any number of wonderful small towns, seen historic sites and placid lakes, ascended magically over forests and plains. I ve landed at 31 airports in 10 states, flying over 13,000 miles.
Not once have I encountered anyone other than friendly, kind, and outgoing. And why not? After all, we re working around magic flying carpet machines, right?
(That s my brother before a flight with me, by the way)
Some weeks it is easy to be glum. This week has been that way for many, myself included. But then, whether you are in the air or on the ground, if you pay attention, you realize we still live in a beautiful world with many wonderful people.
And, in fact, I got a reminder of that this week. Not long after the election, I got in a plane, pushed in the throttle, and started the takeoff roll down a runway in the midst of an Indiana forest. The skies were the best kind of clear blue, and pretty soon I lifted off and could see for miles. Off in the distance, I could see the last cottony remnants of the morning s fog, lying still in the valleys, surrounding the little farms and houses as if to give them a loving hug. Wow.
Sometimes the flight is bumpy. Sometimes the weather doesn t cooperate, and it doesn t happen at all. Sometimes you can fly across four large states and it feels as smooth as glass the whole way.
Whatever happens, at the end of the day, the magic flying carpet machine gets locked up again. We go home, rest our heads on our soft pillows, and if we so choose, remember the beauty we experienced that day.
Really, this post is not about being a pilot. This post is a reminder to pay attention to all that is beautiful in this world. It surrounds us; the smell of pine trees in the forest, the delight in the faces of children, the gentle breeze in our hair, the kind word from a stranger, the very sunrise.
I hope that more of us will pay attention to the moments of clear skies and wind at our back. Even at those moments when we pull the hangar door shut.
What happened in the reproducible
builds effort between January 24th
and January 30th:
d-devlibdeps stable accross locales. Original patch by Reiner Herrmann.
giotypefuncs.c is generated.readelf --decompress.
pkg(8) now supports SOURCE_DATE_EPOCH.
Ross Karchner did a lightning talk about reproducible builds at his work place and shared the slides.
On the recently reviewed album International Sad Hits Vol 1 I wrote that Kim Doo Soo was the great surprise of the CD for me. So I went ahead and bought (not that easy, import from US!) one of his most recommended album, the Free Spirit.
Sad songs, full of melancholy, speaking of desperation, isolation, destroyed love. The music and singing is simple, mainly based on guitar and voice only, at times harmonica, strings and others are added. In contrast to the Crying Philosopher Tomokawa Kazuki, the songs are all very melodic and easy to listen, but still carrying a strong impact. After listening to these songs, the melodies wander around my brain resonating again and again, like (mis)guiding lights in a dark forest.
All the songs are in Korean, but fortunately the accompanying booklet carries a Japanese translation for the Korean incapables like me. In the future I will provide some translations into English, since I believe that this artist should be more known outside this small area. While a friend of mine said I don t like (bimbokusai) music, I have to say I enjoy reading through the sad stories while listening to this special music.
This is the 2002 fourth album by Korea s true cult folk/singer-songwriter hero, Kim Doo Soo. Kim Doo Soo is perhaps the deepest and most introspective of Korea s acid folk singers. Legends surround his songs political oppression, alcoholism, suicide, a 10-year period of mountain seclusion. [ ] On Free Spirit he mines productive veins of profound melancholy, animistic nature, and unfathomable, hermetic affection. These songs are couched in a veil of gorgeous, still melodicism, Kim s quavering vocals and guitar shaded with subtle accordion, cello, organ and harmonica. A reflective and unearthly masterpiece.To this I cannot add anything more eloquent! The songs on this CD are as follows, the English translation is taken from Kim Doo Soo s official web page.
Forced Exposure
You aren t coming any more onto a wild sea I am leaving), Bohemian (
I m going to the shores of emptiness, my free spirit flows down the riverprobably his most famous song, assumed to be responsible for his retreat to the mountains), Dawn rain (A lovely song, and the only one without Japanese translation! Very strange.), Mountain (
Mountains Mountains my dream, mountains). But I can recommend each and every song on this CD. To close this short review, if you are interested in something else but the usual happy-pappy KPop or JPop or USPop, and are searching for inspiring and songs with Tiefgang (deep meaning, as we say it in German), give this special artist a try! Some links concerning Kim Doo Soo that might be useful:
In a few weeks, I will have the opportunity to offer a weekend workshop to selected and motivated high school students1 to a topic of my choice. My idea is to tell them something about logic, proofs, and the joy of searching and finding proofs, and the gratification of irrevocable truths.
While proving things on paper is already quite nice, it is much more fun to use an interactive theorem prover, such as Isabelle, Coq or Agda: You get immediate feedback, you can experiment and play around if you are stuck, and you get lots of small successes. Someone2 once called interactive theorem proving the worlds most geekiest videogame .
Unfortunately, I don t think one can get high school students without any prior knowledge in logic, or programming, or fancy mathematical symbols, to do something meaningful with a system like Isabelle, so I need something that is (much) easier to use. I always had this idea in the back of my head that proving is not so much about writing text (as in normally written proofs) or programs (as in Agda) or labeled statements (as in Hilbert-style proofs), but rather something involving facts that I have proven so far floating around freely, and way to combine these facts to new facts, without the need to name them, or put them in a particular order or sequence. In a way, I m looking for labVIEW wrestled through the Curry-Horward-isomorphism. Something like this:
A proof of implication currying
My credit card info was stolen when I used a wifi hotspot in an airport... Should I use open wifi networks? Is it safe to use my credit card for shopping online?Here is a modified version of an answer I sent to a friend recently which I thought could be useful to the larger internet community. The short answer is "sorry about that", "it depends, you generally can, but be careful" and "your credit card company is supposed to protect you".
https://accesd.desjardins.com/
in my case)
directly myself instead of clicking on links, bookmarks or using a
search engine to find my bank site.
In the case of credit cards, it is much trickier because when you buy
stuff online, you end up putting that credit card number on different
sites which you do not necessarily trust. There's no good solution
but complaining to your credit card company if you believe a
website you used has stolen your credit card details. You can also use
services like Paypal,
Dwolla or Bitcoin that hide your credit card details from the
seller, if they support the service.
I usually try to avoid putting my credit card details on sites I do
not trust, and limit myself to known parties
(e.g. Via Rail,
Air Canada, etc). Also, in general, I try to
assume the network connection between me and the website I visit is
compromised. This forced me to get familiar with online
security and use of encryption. It is more accessible to me than
trying to secure the infrastructure i am using, because i often do not
control it at all (e.g. internet cafes...).
Internet security is unfortunately a hard problem, and things are not
getting easier as more things move online. The burden is on us
programmers and system administrators to create systems that are more
secure and intuitive for our users so, as I said earlier, sorry the
internet sucks so much, we didn't think so many people would join the
acid trip of the 70s. 
Next.