I wanted to post something...so here's a snapshot of right this second.

I'm sitting in the cafe carriage of an Amtrak train heading towards Boston, Massachusetts. It's about twenty to six, and it's dark outside. I'm set up with a laptop and phone and mouse and water bottle in a corner, with headphones on and a colleague on the other side of the table. It's getting a little cold in here, but the orange and white lights of stray roads and houses out in the darkness are wheeling and flowing past one another to the sound of Mr. Scruff's 'Jazz Potato' and the Cinematic Orchestra's 'Flite' and it's good train music.

I'm working, on and off at least. After working on the project for almost 7 years (on and off at least) I'm attending the public opening of the new Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum extension. My suit is in my bag and I'm excited, although the bag is in a luggage rack at the other end of the carriage behind me and I am worried someone has walked off with it. I will probably give in to the anxiety and check on it soon.

While I haven't missed the concern over blogging everything in my life, it's apparent when there are gaps on flickr or here that where there was an account or could have been an account of my life (autoblography, hello) there isn't one. And while I may not feel the urge to share as much as I used to, through age, apathy, prudence or all three, that record is something I love having. So whatever it is, however infrequent or pointless, I'm just going to keep doing this. Snapshots, or small moments, tiny aides-memoire, small links to what is a much more personal whole, anchored fragments in the greater stream of time slewing past in the real world like landscape past a cafe car window.


8 minutes
11:49 AM me: My mind has just been totally blown
11:50 AM "The largest true-color photograph of the night sky ever created, shot by 28-year-old amateur astrophotographer Nick Risinger using six astronomical cameras. It’s not just the view of the sky from one location, but is instead a 360-panoramic view of the sky taken by trekking 60,000 miles across the western United States and South Africa starting in March 2010. The final image is composed of 37,000 separate photographs."
  If you've ever wondered what the view is like if you are the earth
  this is it

6 minutes
11:57 AM me: impressive, right? That's OUR GALAXY
  plus, if you zoom in
  thousands of other galaxies.
  nuts.
11:58 AM ...or alternatively you could click on the i at the bottom and think about how it's a cool representation of information with a graphic index...
  your call
12:02 PM Krissa: WHOAAAAA
  whhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaattt
 me: AWESOME, RIGHT
  
  :)
12:03 PM Krissa: fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck thats cool
12:04 PM me: I am trying to figure out what all the black cloud shit is
 Krissa: this is so cool
 me: the KEY
  is my favourite part
  in the bottom left when the i is clicked
  you are now looking at the center of the galaxy. you are now looking at the outer arm of the galaxy.
12:05 PM Krissa: ohhhhhhhhhhhh
  yes
  oh my go
 me: you are near a source of magnetic interference. move your planet in a figure 8 motion to clear this
 Krissa: this is quite literally the coolest thing i've ever seen
  HAHAHHAHAHAH
  NERD JOKE x2
 me: WOOOO combo multiplier

Hardware Failure With George

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Getting George to perform is not always easy.
Although, according to my Mum, he's acquired a dislike for cameras since I moved to the US.

This becomes obvious.
10:38 AM Krissa: DID YOU KNOW.
  (you probably did not)
  that 222 years ago
  TODAY
  George Washington stood on the steps of the federal courthouse, right HERE (points at statue)
  and became the first American president?
  I'll bet you did NOT.
10:40 AM me: I see sweaty men's balls right by there!
10:41 AM Krissa: Correct!
 me: I am a part of history.
10:42 AM Krissa: Not really.
10:43 AM me: >:(
Some people play for fun, others for diversion, competition, exploration or escape. Videogames may be many things to many people, but just lately I've realized they are scratching an itch I abandoned long ago - when I gave up the dream of inventing Time Travel.

I got hooked - and how- by Back To The Future,but after many viewings all I came away with was frustration - with all the great expanses of time to explore, Marty gets the time travel equivalent of a chore list.

TO DO: URGENT!!!

1. Ensure own existence
2. Bring Dad back from dead (secure socio-economic wellbeing of USA if time)
3. Rescue Doc from ravenous schoolteacher

PS: Do not, repeat DO NOT BOFF MOM

He doesn't get to DO anything. All he does is run around, a heaving mass of cultural paradoxes in his wake, luckily avoiding the catastrophic destruction of the timespace continuum...or his immediate family.
I could do so much more with Time Travel! Honestly. The movies were almost a waste of the entire concept.
It was settled. 
This is what I would do with my life.

So as a youngster walking through the world I would occasionally wonder when my future self would appear. I had no idea what would happen if I met myself, grown-up and travelling in time...we would probably just stand there and be incredibly smug at each other. 

I play games because they're fun, a relaxing diversion, occasionally artistically impressive and frequently engaging. Lately though, I've been feeling a hat-tip to those old desires to see other times and places and explore them. Now that a slew of recent games have made me realize this, it's obvious that I've always loved this about games.

C_France.jpgCivilization

Hard to believe, but this is the first time I felt like I was exploring a world out of time; the sound effect snippets were enough with- of legionaries beating their swords on shields, or the creak of a sail rope on a trireme - were very evocative. Civilization II was addictive as balls regardless, and I remember starting an enormous map with one city, no technology and a cup of  breakfast coffee, happy in the knowledge that I would be growing a nation there all day.
Civ 2's Best Exploration Vehicle
The next time I had that feeling was with Hidden and Dangerous. A shooter with tactics and supernaturally observant enemies, it was the first WW2 game I ever played, and it leapt around the theatres of that war and presented them with enough variety of detail and terrain that it sucked me in.

HnD.jpg

Hidden and Dangerous

It's at this time, game-wise, that the 'burden of proof' switched. From evoking times past to presenting them, my wannabe time-traveler was of course right there with all the other gamers cooing over the 'amazing graphics' and how it 'looks just like a film'. Let's just say that with any fantasy, be it a novel or a movie, there is a willingness to suspend belief in some measure, and that games of this era just required more than most other media, as they attempted to make this switch from the iconic and abstract to presenting an explorable alternate environment in three dimensions.

Then started the love affair with the Grand Theft Auto series...while GTA 3 was more geographical travel than time travel, Vice City mined that seam wide and of course the soundtrack didn't hurt...speeding around a neon-lit 1986 Miami in a sports care to Corey Hart's 'Sunglasses at Night'...this is exactly the sort of thing Marty McFly should have been doing, if he hadn't started out in 1985 in the first place. 

convertible strip.jpg

You can say what you like about the Grand Theft Auto games (most people do) but they took a quantum leap over the competition in terms of sheer volume of environmental detail. Seagulls wheeled overhead, and behind them in a blue sky, a passenger jet came into land somewhere else in the city...when not being run over, the passersby stopped to chat amongst themselves and the radio kept up with events in the game. The plot had you tearing up the tarmac whizzing back and forth across the game map, guiding you through each district of the city, and yes, the world was amazing, but some missions felt like they existed only to show off how great the game world was (which was pretty great).

Amid the slew of Playstation 2 games I played, one, which seemed to walk and talk like a Grand Theft Auto clone, but took a traditional linear game and put it in a sandbox style context - not one filed with side missions, collectibles and sardonic media crammed with pop culture references, but one that was simply more complex, detailed and vibrant than it needed to be to fulfil its role as a background. It must have been the product of some serious effort by the developer, but it wasn't gaudily shown off or exploited. It gave a wonderful feeling of luxury to the game, and I fell in love with it.

M1 Garage.jpg

Mafia was set in a fictional American city in the 1920s and 30s. Its cars were awfully slow with crappy suspension, and quelle horreur, they absolutely refused to bounce off each other if when you crashed. The amazing music of Django Reinhardt played on the in-car radios, which took a while to warm up, as though they had glass valves. Policemen fined you ever so politely. It was -just enough- like stepping into another era. I played it until I got stuck in the sadly absurd autosave system and the sound of seagulls around the harbor where I was stuck drove Krissa up the wall.

AC1_Acre.jpg
And now? It's just bananas. Titles on modern consoles scratching the Time Travel itch have more details, more environment activity and sounds, all of which are extremely gratifying. The sounds of a busy market in the Holy Land during the Crusades in the first Assassin's Creed game, or the canals of Renaissance Venice in the sequel throng with people going about their own business, talking about local bargains and gossip, along streets with great architectural detail and verisimilitude...and slightly over-amped weather and climate doesn't hurt.

AC2_Venice.jpg
Rockstar's Red Dead Redemption applied the latest facial and motion capture animation techniques to the faces of horses to ensure an uncanny accuracy of portrayal, and their reputation for quality control and period research means there's an extra layer of integrity to the gritty realism. Tip your hat to a policeman on a dusty street in the old west? Why not.

RDR Blackwater tip.jpg
It may not be time travel, but maybe it counts when a certain environment doesn't exist any more...RDR is a game about place as well as time, and I love its weather, its cactus and wildlife (even if the appreciation is something along the lines of 'Wow would you look at the detail on that cougar! The bugger it's killed my horse') 

RDR View.jpg
Recently as well, a new Mafia game came out, set in the 50s. The gameplay may have been lacking, and it was criminally short, but for the time-travelling kid inside me, there were moments that had both him and me gawping at the screen.

M2_Street.jpg
And there was no Under The Sea Dance to get to. I had all the time in the world to explore.

Good Trip Home

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Keith snowball fights with a pupil

Cascade Top

Mum and Me

Winter Wraiths



A shift in perspective of 200 miles...New York to Boston, or London to Manchester...and the sky is a sea below. 
It's a thin wispy layer, turbulent and active, thronged with the light of cities.

I've heard the atmosphere described to me as the skin on an apple; against the bulk of the earth and the breathless absence of space, it's thinner than you might think.
It's infinity is deceptive; it is far from neverending, and merely big things can change.
Especially as those orange lights spread and burn in the night.

Audioblography: Bread and Milk

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Bread and Milk.mp3

Recent entry, read.

Marital Harmony

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Krissa: Okay, I love you! About pizza tonight...I defrosted the sauce and the dough and they're stored separately in the fridge. I'll keep you posted on when I leave class so you can start the pizzas while I'm traveling...I'll try and text from the bridge so you can preheat the oven and roll out the dough; if you decide to assemble it while I'm walking home that's fine, or we can assemble it together!

7 minutes
Stuart: I just ate a chicken foot

Bread and Milk

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"Apple."
"Eppool."
I try not to think about how I must sound.
"A."
"A."
"Pple."
"Pple.
"Apple.
"Arpool.

I am learning Portuguese - Brazilian Portuguese. Six years after marrying into a multilingual Brazilian based family I am going to upgrade from ‘gringo’ status to ‘enthusiastic gringo’. In December there will be a big Brazilian family get together. I'm really looking forward to it, but I have three months to avoid sitting in the corner smiling politely with a Caipirinha for the entire week of Christmas.

I studied French and Spanish in school, and the Gallo-Irish nun who taught me French lambasted me for choosing Spanish over German for my second language. She thought very little of the romance languages. “Thee are all the seem!” She said. As a habitually lazy student, I saw this as a rare opportunity. Learning Spanish would get me Italian and Portuguese with very little effort, and by great coincidence, very little effort is my specialty.
Fourteen years on there are some linguistic dregs still sloshing about at the bottom of the memory glass, and while my remaining stock of Spanish phrases is starting to consolidate around the ones used to complain about late takeout, I still try to follow whenever conversations with Krissa's family completely accidentally slip into Portuguese even though I am sitting right there next to them at the dinner table. Sometimes the flow of the conversation is so obvious I join in and make a comment in English.

This never works.

When I am learning on the computer, this is what I must sound like to Krissa, who speaks both English and Portuguese.
"Yellow."
"Helloo."
"Yell"
"Hell"
"ow"
"oo"
"Yellow."
"Jello."
I sound so patently ridiculous the only person I am comfortable being in the room when I’m doing this is the dog. Portuguese is fucking hard. If you read it it looks like someone was typing Spanish really fast on a keyboard with no interest in correcting their mistakes. If you listen to it it sounds like someone is urgently recounting a fairytale to a child, perhaps one with attention deficit disorder; every sentence has exciting, looping high and low tones that dance giddily with in and out breaths, coming to an end with long drawn out zzzzzzzzh and oou sounds, giving the impression of skidding to an exhilarated halt. Don't get me wrong - it sounds amazing, but if you try to mimic it...well let me change that - when I try to mimic it, I fail. Deep vowels requiring lots of breath, like OOOOO, require sudden hand-brake turns into top-of-lung vowels sounds like OI with nary a consonant to bounce off, and the whole affair is sprinkled with Js that are alternately zhees or nonexistent but punctuated by breaths and/or disappointed looks from Krissa.
I worry that the computer takes pity on me after five or six attempts.

Earlier this summer Krissa ridiculed a British character on television for their accent, and attempted to mimic the way they said ‘milk’. There is no real L in the Cockney ‘milk’. It’s a dead vowel sound instead. We spent a while in conversation about the finer points of this.
"Miuhk," I said.
"Moiiik."
"Miuhk."
"Moiiik."
...and this carried on until she got annoyed and challenged me to say ‘bread’ in portuguese. It is spelled P A O. Apparently the end of the word is not just O. It’s a dead vowel sound instead. We walked to the subway.
"Moiiik"
"No. Pow."
"No. Moiiiik."
"No. Powwoo."
"No. Moiiik."
This went on for some time. A young man who was clearly also walking to the subway crossed to the other side of the street, lengthening his journey time by one traffic light but ultimately relieving himself of the pressure of being too close to the cut and thrust of scholarly linguistic exchange.
"Pow."
"Moiiik."

Now I am learning Portuguese properly my vocabulary is expanding but my pronunciation is still terrible, and the fear I have, as my rough and ready skills expand, is that confidence and the delight in learning will lead me to completely ignore pronunciation because it’s insanely difficult. I am haunted by one of my childhood favourite TV characters - in ‘Allo Allo!’, a rompy sitcom set in Nazi occupied France over a garish laugh track. ‘Crabtree’ was an undercover English spy whose French was perfect - apart from the vowels. He would walk into the cafe and draw the owner conspiratorially aside.

"Good moaning. I am the bronger of bod toadings. The Brootosh Air Farce have dropped their bums on the witterworks."

This is exactly how I currently sound in Portuguese, but I’m getting a little better here and there- I don’t have a completely inflexible accent.
When precisely drunk enough and in the company of not-too-many people I can do an English country bumpkin accent. When slightly drunker and in the company of just Krissa, I can apply my 6 years of living in these United States and do a passable American accent, as long as a gravelly 1980s movie announcement qualifies as an American accent.
I understand that the intricacies and myriad subtleties of human expression mean that the tiniest shift in tone can change a meaning and that any language student needs to be sensitive to this, and above all patient with themselves and the natives. For example! I once bought a train ticket from a window booth in the South of France without getting arrested.
“Good morning!” I said, in French. “I would like a ticket to Grenoble, please.”
The salesman looked at me, eyebrows raised and nostrils flared, as though I was urinating into the little ticket slot.
“Where?”
“Grenoble?”
“Again?”
“Grenoble.”
“I do not know this place.”
“Grenoble...it’s one of the largest cities in France, in the mountains-”
The salesman cut me off triumphantly.
“AH-HAH! You mean Grenobl!”
He grinned proudly at me as he printed off the tickets with a flourish, happy to have educated another visitor to mother France, and I restrained the sudden urge to urinate into the little ticket slot.

Still In Short Trousers

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This past weekend was BlogHer 2010 in New York and Krissa and I met up with the luminous Leah and Kristin and Corey for a wonderful brunch in Manhattan. Eggs were eaten, much coffee was drunk, and we talked about blogs more than I have in years.

Reading Leah's post here about how strange it is to have blog relationships that go back longer than other 'real world' ones (and it is), I looked back at my banner.
Bloody hell. 
It's been eight years. 

I may have been updating at a rate of a post a month or even less, but this here page is still ticking.

This was me making my entry into the blogosphere (do we still call it that?), on a sunny English summer day when I was newly graduated from university and had very little to do. The connection in my parents' house was so slow I used to surf the internet with a book to read while the pages loaded.
I picked a standard Blogger template. It had a lot of orange.

Eight years old.
If my blog was human, by now it would be asking awkward questions about where babies come from.

Almost Home

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Almost Home


I took this last night on the approach to La Guardia after a trip to DC. The stewardess only asked me to turn the phone off after I'd finished taking pictures. It's okay if you plunge everyone to death by avionics failure if you're in first class.

I don't really buy into the mindset that iPods and other non-broadcasting electronics are capable of electromagnetic leaping ninja kicks. The whole idea of turning off anything electronic during takeoff and landing is overkill. There has to be a good debunk of this somewhere online.

Found: A Memory

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I found this in a journal while rooting through a drawer looking for cufflinks. I remember sitting at one of the tables mentioned, writing as the day faded from dusk to dark, trying to capture the feeling of being there.


20th September, 2003. Refugio de Los Albergues, Pitres.

Let me bring you to this place.

There is no road that can being you here, no train. You can only reach this place yourself. On a sparsely wooded stretch of the valley slopes there is a small flat area of land, five minutes' walk from the village, along a dusty and rocky path that smells of goat droppings. There are trees all around. A terrace below supports apple trees and pine, beneath spiky-fruited chesnuts. The mountains surrounding this place are scrubby, gold and green and brown, grey-blue in the distance. The sun is warm and low, and the shadows are long.  It is late summer and trodden-down yellow hay fills the gaps between grey stones.  It is silent but for distant cocks crowing, the bells of a church at sunset, and the village dogs. There are tables, with metal chairs painted white that sit awkwardly on the uneven ground, and there is a long, low building here, its walls covered with piles of firewood. Off to one side of the terrace there is a swimming pool, five metres long and lined with black plastic tarpaulin with a rusting ladder at one end, lined with rough stones around its edge. It is slowly replenished with water from a garden hose, covered with pondweed, and full of fish. The old German woman who runs this place sits by the side of the pool smoking a rolled cigarette, staring into the water. She is wearing thick grey hiking socks under her plastic sandals, light blue and white three-quarter length trousers and a green t-shirt. Her name is Barbara.

A spinning column of midges dance in and out of the tall frame of plant-knotted steel that receives the telephone wire.

The building is made of stone, with irregular mortar; it has a roof of terracotta and bamboo. The window frames and wooden shutters are a deep maroon, and the fly-screens are green. The inside walls are white. The kitchen has two sinks and a gas stove run from round orange bottles. The wooden kitchen shelves are covered with packets of teas from countries all over Europe, and three-quarter empty plastic bottles of oil which give the room a rich musky smell.  There is an wide open sitting room with a smooth concrete floor and a large fireplace bordered with woodpiles. Highbacked chairs surround a table in front of the fireplace. A hand-held griddle for making toast rests on the mantelpiece. There are two squat bookcases, with books in seven languages...literature, guidebooks, maps. A large chessboard rests against the wall next to the fireplace, beneath a German anti-war poster from 1924. There is a dartboard, a chalkboard and three paintings; abstract, bold lines; and a map of Andalucia on the door to the dormitory. There are 12 bunks, closely spaced, with thin mattresses. The washroom has two sinks and a shower where a tree from outside is growing through the wall.
The stars are amazing.

Is It Morning Already?

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Coy

Park Slope Wheels

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Friday Evening Cruise

Just Backdated

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Things You Cannot Blog About:

Not blogging
Anything other people might find boring
Things you may have mentioned before
Opinions that may be misconstrued
Opinions that start out being as a Great Analogy but get overcomplicated to avoid being misconstrued
Flippant stuff if you haven't blogged in ages
Serious stuff if you haven't blogged in ages
Work
Internal Marriage Functionings and Machinations (apart from the last post - IMs don't count)

So! This results in, rather unsurprisingly, a lack of blogging that's gone on for aaaaages. So screw it, frankly.

I went to Philadeplhia with Krissa and Beth and Josh last weekend. Josh's band, Heads Up Display, were playing a gig at the Grape Rooms in Manayunk.
Manayunk! There's a place in the world called Manayunk.
We had a great time. We saw the queue for the Liberty Bell (it was HUGE you guys, you should go see it for yourselves, it was really impressive), and the Philadelphia Art Museum, which does a much better impression of what Greece Must Have Looked Like In Its Prime than the tiny models at the Parthenon, with the sad exception that the Philly architect built in sandstone in an area with a healthy coal-burning power industry, so his creation will probably go down the road of impressive architectural decay more rapidly than its distant marble counterparts. All the people doing Rocky Balboa impressions at the top of the long run of steps were funny to start, tiresome after the tenth or twelfth, and then sort of sad, but not as bad as people who drove past the Rocky statue at the bottom of the steps yelling ADRIAAAAAN! and disappointingly maintaining excellent control of their cars.
The GPS with the Mary Poppins accent died as we arrived in Philadelphia:
Turn left.
Recalculating.
Turn left, then turn left, then keep left.
Recalculating.
Drive point three miles
Battery Low
Thank god for that
so we navigated our way home via assumption that New York would be easy to hit and when that failed, Google Maps on our new iPhones. This of course meant that those batteries died but by that time we could see the Empire State Building so aiming at the city was back on the cards.

My schizophrenic work iTunes library is on shuffle and just played three songs in a row beginning with 'Sugar':

Sugar Mountain: Neil Young
Sugarless: Caviar
Sugar Magnolia: Grateful Dead

I have no idea what the odds are of that happening.
I have 5456 songs, so 1/5456x1/5456x1/5456, I suppose, or 6.15x10E-12 or 1 in 163 billion. Maybe. But then that's the odds of any three song combination coming up. It's only because I spotted a theme afterwards that makes it unusual. Maybe we should downgrade probability for only being impressive in retrospect.

It's goddamned hot and humid at the moment. Our apartment's main air conditioner is struggling to keep up. The compressor just takes whole evenings off. Everyone assumes that as a building design engineer I know everything about air conditioners, but I don't get paid to pick window units out of the Home Depot catalogue. I could sketch out a scheme for the whole apartment block in a day or so that'd cost a couple of hundred thousand bucks but when it comes to the smaller bits of kit, after learning that it Makes Things Colder I'm judging it on how nice the front bit looks just like everyone else.

I have just eaten my lunch - it was a ham sandwich.

There. Bases covered.

Moment Of Realisation

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1:03 PM me: Just ate and now have no motivation
  boo

6 minutes
1:09 PM Krissa: what'd you have for lunch?
1:11 PM me: BISON
  (one half)
  Only 54,300 calories!
  It's very lean.
1:12 PM Krissa: hahahahah
1:13 PM me: and a mango and black bean salad on the side
  for Health
 Krissa: hurrah!
1:16 PM i'm ordering a chop't -
  i'm absolutely slammed today
1:17 PM what comes from being less than spectacularly productive this week.
 me: Garrr maybe I need sugar?
 Krissa: by the way, DRAW?
 me: I have a headache and all sorts
 Krissa: brazil portugal DRAW?
 me: DRAW?
  Oh
  Neither of them could be bothered!
 Krissa: i can't BELIEVE it.
1:18 PM BRAZIL!
 me: Brazil got fewer yellow cards
  so there's that
1:19 PM First time they haven't scored in a World Cup game since about 1970
1:20 PM omg
  I'm dying
  omg
  ruby ruby ruby RUBY! Ooh arr ooh arr ooh arrrr
1:21 PM Krissa: HAHAHAHHAHA
  who ARE these people.
 me: The Wurzels!
1:22 PM Oi've got a brand new combine harvester, and Oi'll give you the key
1:23 PM Krissa: HAHAHAHAHAH
  veh funny
1:27 PM me: No?
  That's another of theirs
 Krissa: yes i remember
  are they, what, like a polka band
1:28 PM me: OH MY GOD
  I MARRIED AN AMERICAN
  WHAT HAVE I DONE

Formula vs Perfume

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Formula VS. Perfume by Heads Up Display from Carlos Molina on Vimeo.

Digg this video

Heads Up Display are great - check out their site here!

Google Voice!

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I asked, and received. I am signed up for Google Voice, who now field my voicemails, and send me a transcript via email and SMS, and provide me a natty interface online where I can go and listen to my messages if the button prompts on the actual telephone are too slow for me.
Unfortunately the transcripts are not perfect.
This evening Krissa was meeting with Shana for a drink before heading home.
This is the voicemail she left, with Google's transcription.

Krissa: Hey! It's me. I just left the bar where we had the incredibly expensive cocktail at.
BECAME
Google: Hey! Give me an a plus. The borrow that we had a currently of the cocktail ass.

Krissa: I put it on my debit card and Shana gave me cash
BECAME
Google: Hello my darling carbon Cheney give you cash

Krissa: So anyway, I'm running really late and I've had a gin and tonic and it's ten to eight! I'm really really sorry. I thought it would - I thought it would be more like coffee...and it is not. So I'm walking up to Herald Square, I'm gonna jump on a D and then I'm coming home and having to make rotisserie chicken with croutons and stuff when I get home, but if um, you wanna have something else that's easier then I guess we can it's just then the bread will go to waste and the lettuce.
BECAME
Google: So anyway, I'm really late. James, I can't. Hey something really really sorry. I thought I would. I thought it would be more like off a and it's not so I'm walking up hills where I'm gonna jump comedy and then I'm going home and having to make. We're just. Re-checking the time. If I get home, but if you we wanna have something else with the zero if you can just of the bridal the wake them a letter.


Krissa: I don't know. Maybe its....when you get home you turn on the oven and it won't take me that long for me to make that dinner and I should be home by 8.30. But anyway..rambling! Rambling! Gin and Tonic...in my brain!
BECAME
Google: I don't know, maybe. S. When you get home teaching on the island. It won't take that long for me to make that dinner and you know I should be home by 8.30. But anyway rambling! Rambling! Gin and Tonic entertainment!


Krissa: Love you! Do you like bread? [Eddie Izzard reference]
Google: If you...you know like.

No google, I do not know like.

The Human Countdown - tck tck tck

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So! If you watch this:



Then when you watch me doing something similar in the middle of this:

 

...it won't look so odd.

Yesterday in Central Park, Adam (an old university friend ) and I took part in a dynamic human sculpture, organized by Oxfam, Avaaz, and a host of other organizations, as part of tck tck tck. Tck tck tck is a campaign for an international climate change plan that is ambitious, realistic and -vitally- binding.

Many news organizations were sitting on top of the cranes, shooting away - so far I can only find stills, like this one, (AP/LA Times) of the starting hourglass, and then this from Reuters of the tck tck tck in the lower bulb...but I'm sure the video of the full transformation is coming.

Human Countdown in New York

I was part of Siberia.

This week is Climate Week in NYC. Events abound.

The COP15 talks in Copenhagen in December are our best hope for another Kyoto style agreement in the next few years. If an agreement is not made there and action taken, climate change will keep accelerating.

If you are not in New York but would like to get stuck into the effort, avaaz.org provides details of how to get involved in the Global Climate Wake Up Call, a campaign to help people communicate their concerns to governments worldwide before this week's UN Summit, and Copenhagen later this year.

And yes, I too think I look ridiculous.
Your point?


Oh, You Waster

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The trip to San Francisco back in May was marvellous. So marvellous in fact that Krissa and I were completely seduced by the place and created half-baked plans to move there...how, where, when...who knew? But it was a pleasant enough mindset with which to enjoy the second half of our time there.
We met some wonderful people, checked in with a few old friends, and enjoyed the wonderful  hospitality of Anna and Bobbie, superstars both.

Okay, so that was June...it is now August. Where was I?

Oh, well right now I'm sitting in my apartment with a dully throbbing jaw after a rather brisk doctor levered two of my wisdom teeth out yesterday. 

But we were talking about June, so just for your closure Krissa's pictures of that trip are here and mine are here.
Done?
Good.

My sister and brother-in-law, Jemma and Tom, just came to stay for a week, which was great! I hope I managed to pack enough Americana and Newyorcana into the seven days. The trip was a surprise gift from Jemma to Tom for his birthday, and Krissa and I decided to add to it, by taking them both out on a boat trip around the harbor, on the Pioneer
It was a magical evening, being in such good company, so close to the water you could reach down and touch it, under an evening sky clipped only by skyscrapers and sailcloth.
I wish they'd been able to stay longer.

What else what else what else...

Oh! Work's going well. My flickr stream photos of work-in-progress buildings have been switched to friends and family only, just because of the usual concern of rights, distribution etc. But if you haven't, check them out, or, alternatively, the United States Institute of Peace webcam is up here for all to see. There are two cameras...one on the main trailer, the other on top of the taller crane. And to think that place used to be a really, really big hole...

Nano has a new squeaky toy (thanks Jem and Tom!). 
Krissa has a new clicky toy.

I would like to not have to be recuperating now, please.
You can say all you like about the wonders of modern medicine, but it seems the method of removing a tooth is as good as it gets - numb, slice, heave. I don't resent that, but SURELY you could vaporise it or something? Mini light-saber it out?
I'm feeling fairly lucid, but with a bit of a fuzziness of thought which means my attention span is realllly looong. Woo painkillers.
Let me rephrase that to woo painkillers I am taking very seriously and only when I need them woo.

In my daze I finished reading The Da Vinci Code this morning.
In my defence my recent reading list has included two Pratchetts I hadn't read (Going Postal and Making Money, both much better than I'd expected and something of a return to form after the long slew of Watch whodunits), Jane Austen and the Theban Plays of Sophocles.
So I think I earned the three days of guilty reading.
I don't know why I'm trying to justify myself to you, internet. Most of you have read Twilight, for which (so I am informed) you have no excuse whatsoever.

I just got the new Gomez album, A New Tide. It's very different, and while it was shiny-new-exciting to start, the later songs on the album sort of failed to maintain that excitement. I hope it grows on me...

What else have I got going on? What grand schemes?

Well...not much, really. 
Life is very good indeed, mind you.
I might volunteer to work the occasional weekend on the Pioneer.
That would be fun.

The Freedom To

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The motto of the American South during the Civil War was Deo Vindice - God will vindicate, will justify - God is on our side.

God was not one of Abraham Lincoln's favourite subjects, but during that war he is attributed with saying, "...my concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God's side..."

You are not justified nor vindicated by a sanction from God, but regardless of the partisanship of any particular deity, what is right and good will be most God's 'side', and that goes for most people's' idea of God.

The watching world is filled with people avowing that the demonstrators represent the spirit of freedom and true democracy in Iran. Leaders are being urged to act to support them.

Regardless of the vigour and passion on either side of the electoral dispute, the only thing that matters here is that democracy and the will of the people is accurately carried out.

No democratically elected world leader can truly support either candidate, because it doesn't matter which wins, the democracy is flawed. Not through vote rigging, but through oppression of political opposition, free press, religious diversity and other freedoms.

Even if Iran opened the doors on its electoral process and everyone was satisfied that the true winner of the recent poll had become President, and the protests ceased, I would think it a shame because the thing worthy of true protest is the social system.

Many countries are guilty of attempting to manipulate others; throughout her history, Britain has been one of the worst. To step in and support a candidate in the context of an imposed, false democracy would be to validate the false democracy. 
The only request world leaders can make of those in control in Iran is that the people are well treated and that their right to protest is respected. If that is granted, when the act of protest is not a criminal offence, true protest might arise...which would be the end of an oppressive regime. The two are the same, and calling for the respect of protest is as likely to be heeded and just as ineffectual as calling for the dissolution of the oppressive regime right off the bat. 

But that is all that can be done without applying force, and that would make things much, much worse.

Krissa and I are going to San Francisco on Thursday. We shall be staying with some rather fabulous people and paying visits to many more.

This is a first and a couple of furthests for me - furthest from home, furthest west...first time seeing the Pacific, and of course first time to California. Another pin in the virtual map, some more turf explored...I am really excited!
To see the city, to see people, see giant redwoods...

Even if it takes me three hundred and sixty five times as long as Phileas Fogg, I'll get round the world eventually.
The UK has released a list of people who are barred from the country for "propagating views" that "fundamentally go against our values" according to the Home Secretary, Jacqui Smith.

I am seriously mixed up about this.

First, I read Fred Phelps is not allowed into the UK.
Undeniable satisfaction.

Second, a voice of moderate rational argument from Inayat Bunglawala:

“If they step over the line and break the law, it's at that moment the law should be enacted, not beforehand...If people are keeping their odious views to themselves, that's their business. We should not be in the business of policing people's minds."

I feel unease. That's absolutely true. And as far as I know, Fred Phelps, to run with an example, has not broken any laws in the United Kingdom. He is a notorious, vocal bigot with views many people find abhorrent. The fact remains that he has not broken any law in the United Kingdom.

By the time I read (at the bottom of this BBC article) that Martha Stewart had been denied entry to the UK because of her insider trading deal I was positively upset. This is dangerous, ridiculous, populist nonsense.

I've already quoted an excerpt, but this bears repeating:

“Coming to this country is a privilege. We won't allow people into this country who are going to propagate the sort of views... that fundamentally go against our values.”
Jacqui Smith - Home Secretary

I understand there have been attempts under UK law to prevent the instigation of hatred on racial or religious grounds, with varying levels of success or moral objectivity, but this particular quote rings with a dangerous tone of protectionism. If entering the UK is a privilege, there is a standard. This isn't a hint, this is precisely what the government is saying.

Even worse, the standard is vaguely defined as a contrariness to values. 'Fundamentally' is overused and is just as woolly as 'reasonable' and 'actual'. It's a dangerous word - you understand if someone is described as wrong. If they're described as fundamentally wrong, your understanding hasn't changed - but the describer has added nuance to how wrong the person is.

I do not think that the United Kingdom should have a monarchy.

It's a personal view. It crops up in conversation occasionally. I'm not an activist, but if the subject comes up I can get quite passionate about it. I don't know if I've ever changed anyone else's mind, but I may have done. I may have propagated my views.

(I don't want to go off on the explanation, but here is a part of it in a nutshell -  I think that the monarchy is a remnant of a time when we were not self-governed. The institution serves no useful purpose. Any minor purpose it does serve, it would be better as the duty of an elected representative. Even if we are now completely democratic, the monarchy and the royal family form such a grand part of our national identity that their cultural primacy skews it, deforms it, so that we are not modern or rational in our thinking about our place in the global community, or about our role as individuals in a global society...like I said. Part of the explanation.)

Anyway.

If, because the United Kingdom has a monarchy, we can safely assume that is a value or belief the United Kingdom holds...and I am against it.

I am against one of the values of the United Kingdom.

Am I fundamentally against it?
Well yes. You'll have to work hard to change my mind on the matter.

So...what now?

The satisfaction I felt when reading that Fred Phelps was barred from the UK is exactly the sort of feeling this announcement is designed to give. What it's not designed to achieve is the feeling that if I disagree with what the government feels is a cultural value (fundamental or otherwise) I can have my right (sorry) privilege to enter the UK removed.


So, Jacqui Smith - I am against the monarchy, and I've told people about it.
Can I come in?


Reasons To Be Cheerful

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I am feeling enormously cheerful and optimistic.
The huge surge in oil prices last year and the current financial crisis have given me a spring in my step and a newfound enthusiasm. This might sound callous and inconsiderate, especially since I have not directly felt their effects - I live in New York, I don't own a car and I'm lucky enough to still have my job. Millions of people in the world have been adversely affected, and yes I'm a bastard for saying this, but...I was expecting the events to produce this much change to be much worse.

So the status quo has been shaken - twice - and people are looking for a way out and finding one that was there, developing and improving, all along.

In May of 2008, the US government Energy Information Administration recorded a price of over $4 for a gallon of gasoline, a threshold that shocked a nation becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the cost of the fuel previously considered as a cheap, staple resource. 
When your fuel costs so much more, what are you going to do? Stay at home? No.

Sales of hybrids in America are rising in spite of the economic crisis - Toyota are doubling their allocations to the US market and I've seen an explosion of hybrid cars here in New York...perhaps aided in overcoming any negative social connotations by Mayor Bloomberg's decree that all NYC cabs must be gas-electric hybrids by 2012. 
It's interesting to see how the auto-makers, with their 2008 product lines stacked with giant SUVs and trucks, have reacted to this direction of consumer choice. Giant cars are what American consumers have been buying for years. 

The "luxury SUV" Cadillac Escalade weighs 5,700lbs (2,500kg) - about as much as a female African elephant. The 2007 gas-only model gets just 13 mpg in a city environment and 19 mpg on the highway. Hybrid technology on this behemoth improves its mileage to just 20mpg city and 21mpg highway. In an attempt to have the best of both worlds, Ford have produced the Escape, a more lightweight SUV-like car designed to be a Hybrid - and these get 34mpg in the city. New York's cab companies are buying Escapes in droves.

Imagine how much less gasoline would be used if designers (and the consumers who pay their wages) realized that there was an even better way...moving away from the family tank and back to the family car. What would the mpg be on a hybrid Smart car?
But baby steps...and this is all very encouraging.

Gas prices went below $4 again in August 2008. But hybrids made sense before the gas crisis, and they still make sense. The only thing that changed was that people were shocked into looking for a better way of doing things. And they found it.

---

Bank after bank has crumbled, jobs have been lost, purse strings have tightened. The old ideas about how the global economy works have been questioned. What are we working on again? Why are we working this way? Where are we generating value?

The statement released yesterday by the G20 leaders included some serious pledges and an outline of a planned path to recovery. The final pledge was this:

  • build an inclusive, green, and sustainable recovery.
Whole nations are shaken and looking for another way of doing things...and there, all along, standing in the political hubbub shouting at the top of its lungs but tragically unheard, was a logical, sensible, sustainable approach to energy, industry, development and economics. 

So what I hope I'm seeing is the different aspects of our society; the political, industrial, and social spheres, recognizing that yes, renewable energy makes sense. Sustainable practices make sense. Consuming more efficiently makes sense. Green economic growth can happen. Green economic growth makes sense.

As a realistic individual I have long acknowledged that it is not enough for green technology and renewable energy to be simply better for the environment. It needs to be better, economically, for it to develop in our society. It needs to be cheaper. The opportunity to invest in a wind farm needs to get investors' heart rates up. The market needs to drive these changes.

You can do this two ways - develop the technology to the point where the economic balance tips, and a wind generated Kilowatt-hour is cheaper to produce than a coal or nuclear generated Kilowatt-hour...or the economic goalposts can move and suddenly renewables are a better proposition. Subsidies for green projects are one way of moving those goalposts.

Another way would be to wait for total depletion of fossil fuels, global economic meltdown and health-threatening degradation of the environment to make renewable energy a promising investment. 
Call me heartless, but I think that would be much worse than what we are currently experiencing.

So a gas price spike and the mortgage crisis could be looked at as an early warning. Yes, the goalposts have moved...the global economic framework is changing. Hopefully just enough that the market can drive renewables and green practice as an engine for economic growth.

Maybe the technology isn't there yet for what Al Gore is calling for - 100% renewables in ten years - but technology tends to progress, especially when market driven. Social attitudes do not have to change. 
It might be my inner engineer talking, but I would rather have a technological problem to solve than a social one...and I think we're getting there on both fronts.

So cheer up, and cross your fingers. After the smoke clears...it might never come back.

Skyhooks

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United States Institute of Peace HQ Building Site Feb 11th 2009

I Aten't Dead

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Contrary to all indications.

How are you? You okay?

And Then You Smile

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Okay so work work work, right?
Late night, early morning, working weekends, general disgruntlement, too much coffee not enough time too much to do.
But then fifteen minutes free over cereal and some internet and


Which I watched to begin with because the art style is awesome....and then the song had me tapping my feet and I was really enjoying it. The morning ceased to be another up-eat-shower-dress-and-go affair. Woo, I found a cool thing. But YouTube wasn't done with me yet. There are MORE OF THESE. 

Halfby, a band I hadn't heard of until I clicked on the link in Jeph Jacques' Twitter, have quite the following in Japan, it seems. At least, enough so that following gets to stop traffic if they feel like emulating their favourite videos...


And now I'm in a really good mood. 
Hmmm, I better sign off now - I have to go to work.

I might walk there.


If you can vote and you have yet to - don't make it a spectator sport for yourself too.
Get out and vote.

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