March 31, 2003
Anne is 36
Anne is 36.
Happy birthday Anne, the world would be lacking without your inimitable whimsy.
Here's happy birthday pygmy daffodils for you:
Henceforth I will devote this blog to the posting of close up pictures of flowers.
Tea and Talk
When I go home to my mother and step dad we drink tea, talk of many things, and look at poetry books. I was there this weekend.
We speak a language, that, as far as I can tell, just doesn't play well anywhere else. I suspect this is the way of many families.
They are on their way to England for a visit.
(I've just recieved my renewed UK passport back from the British consulate and I must say I'm incredibly relieved. In this day and age it doesn't pay to walk around without your papers. I have to be prepared to be arrested for sedition at any time.
It took the British government just over 2 weeks to renew my expired passport. So far it is taking the US government 10 months and counting to renew my green card. I'm told to expect a year which actually means 18 months, which other sources say actually means more than two years.)
Primary topic of conversation: when pursuing a better world is the best strategy pursuit of a quiet, inner and individual peace or an intense level of active engagement that may well ripple the surface of the world but at some torment to your inner health? Anyone think they know? I would love to hear it: I vacillate between these two positions by the minute, especially in times like these.
March 28, 2003
March 27, 2003
Flowers For Everyone
I don't know what I would be doing with myself if it weren't spring and the flowers weren't blooming in the yard.
If the weather holds there will be a rolling burst of color across the yard as the various trees wake up, see it's Spring, and get to thinking about fornication.
First these pink things, later some white and red.
Without the flowers my entire day would be spent fretting about the war and the way it brings out the idiot in people.
Now there are at least a few moments with these flowers.
March 26, 2003
Abstract Monkey Wrenches
Danny Ayers comments on an anti-RDF piece by Sean McGrath?, saying it is "trival to debunk." I don't think his concerns can be tossed aside so easily. (0000BV)
There is a lot of truth in what Sean is saying. I don't think he's really saying that there's anything wrong with RDF itself, but suggesting instead that since it is an abstraction (such an abstraction) it has significant barriers to entry and use. (0000BW)
Also, I don't think you can put people's willingness to use programmatic abstractions and data abstractions into the same box. Especially in a situation where people imagine that the data abstractions are only a few short steps from being a human communication medium. (0000BX)
This is related to what I was trying to say over on the collab lists. (0000BY)
A tool like RDF is hard to use because its uses are abstract rather than concrete. You can't walk up to it and comprehend, in short order, what it is for. Nor is it particularly easy to try so the sort of clear breakdown that would lead to a present-at-hand moment doesn't happen so the real goal, where use is ready-to-hand, doesn't happen either. (0000BZ)
More on tools that are first present and then ready-to-hand. (0000C0)
March 24, 2003
Deja Weird
I'm sick. Have been since I got back from Florida. In my paranoid fantasies I believe that I picked up SARS from the chubby uncomfortable man sitting next to me on the plane home. He was popping his ibuprofen, loosening his belt and refusing his snacks. But I have no fever. And I'm not that paranoid. (0000BG)
Unable to focus on things like work, or unpacking, I've been reading blogs, eating Chinese food and watching movies. Last night I finished off the Dune mini-series that I started at Ding's house the other night. I was accompanied by Shrimp in Garlic Sauce, extra spicy, from the Dragon. With no Lynchian expectations to mess with me, the mini series version of Dune is actually rather good, but then again, perhaps I'm feeling generous. Ding will provide me with Children (of Dune). That will provide more room for judgment. (0000BH)
Today was Time Out. French movie about a guy who is laid off but continues going through the motions, never telling his family, for about three months before things fall apart. Excellent performances and some cinematography that made me think of Blue. (0000BI)
The Cinemat has a Red poster. I would very much like to have that poster. Actually I would prefer the giant fabric advertisement from the movie. (0000BJ)
Food: frozen dumplings, warmed up in the microwave, dipped in chili garlic sauce mixed with soy sauce. (0000BK)
I had to return those movies tonight, so I looked for more. I was looking for 24 hour party people, recommended by Anne, but it's been stolen. (0000BL)
As I wandered the aisles, in my sickness, I felt lost and disoriented… (0000BM)
My parents are leaving for England in a few days. There they will visit family and friends. One friend, RC, that they will visit was at Oxford fourteen years ago and is there again now. I've been to England twice in the last fifteen or so years. Both times very much related to someone I'll be seeing when I go to California around about the same time my parents go to England. She once looked vaguely like the woman in the Red poster. The first of those trips was after an aborted second attempt at the University of Redlands (located in California). That trip was a year long, and full of many things. Somewhere in there RC and I started a habit of trying to out Joyce/Faulkner?/Fitzgerald? (see This Side of Paradise) one another in letters. Apparently I took a fancy to reading Bret Easton Ellis (who was outdoing us both) at the time, for I have, for three pound ninety-five pence, a copy of The Rules of Attraction that I purchased then. (0000BN)
So despite horrible marketing and not very good reviews, I picked up the movie and brought it home with some Nyquil, Aspergum (when I was little, I used to occasionally fake a sore throat to get some) and Garlic Shrimp (this time from Noodle Town). (0000BO)
I settle in and the scenery looks familiar. Lo, it is true: this movie is being filmed at the University of Redlands. Never mind that The Rules of Attraction is supposed to be about a small Northeastern liberal arts place, Redlands was built to imitate one. And not too far from Hollywood. (0000BP)
Weird. (0000BQ)
When I write my multi-volume self-obsessed memoirs, the nine months I spent at Redlands will be a volume all their own. (0000BR)
When I open a carry-out Chinese restaurant, extra spicy will mean something. (0000BS)
This happens all the time. There is nothing new under the sun. (0000BT)
March 22, 2003
Florida Trip
Sabrina and I have recently returned from a trip to Florida to visit her parents. I gathered together some photos and a bit of narrative. (0000BF)
March 13, 2003
Protest Fantasy
I've been mulling an idea of reporting protests fantasies that I've had. (0000BB)
Here's something I posted to a local newsgroup today, to express my frustration with warmongerers, local and remote: (0000BC)
The thing to do now is to gather some happy little activists, raid as many pharmacies as possible for all the viagra we can find and make a mission to the white house, to the pentagon, to Downing Street, to France, to the security council, to Bagdhad, to Israel, to Turkey, to India, to Pakistan, etc etc etc ad infinitum so that all these bastards can have the following moment: (0000BD)
Wow! My penis! It's alive! Oh beautiful penis, for so long I have missed you, let me touch you. Why did you forsake me and make me want to oppress everyone else. I've felt so repressed. I needed to act out. But no more, you are back! I love you little penis, never go away again. (0000BE)
Spring?
In the Spring of 1990 I was in London, working for the British Computing Society as the executive editor of the magazine What's On In Computing. It was primarily an events listing quarterly but in the absence of strong management my partner-in-crime designer, Nicholas Redeyoff, and I decided our issue, the seventh, needed a redesign; some sprucing up of the look and some adding of a few more features. Soon after publication we both quit in the midst of administrative turmoil resulting from a move out of London to the boring town of Swindon. As far as I know the seventh issue was the last. (0000AQ)
I was inspired, tonight, to fish out one of my few copies of issue number seven. It's folded to A4, so somehow sleeker in its slenderness than other magazines around the house. The cover is a full page photo of a boat on the Thames. Why? We never really say. Turns out it is the "versatile training centre" from the page 5 news story. (0000AR)
On page 3 is what I was looking for: my letter from the editor, introducing our changes in the strained and earnest voice of me at 20. It was Spring then, and we were making changes, and I thought it was important, or at least something should be. I called the editorial "Writes of Spring": (0000AT)
Spring has always been a time of rebirth. A time when old developments are enhanced and new developments are unveiled, unsure in their infancy, but hoping for a brilliant summer…[zealous explaining of new features in the magazine and the forthcoming "high season for events"]…It has been said many time in the past few months, and maybe it is becoming mildly trite; but it is important not to forget that we have entered a new decade…A new decade that is not only the last decade of the century, but also a millennium. This doesn't happen very often. It is the perfect opportunity to let ourselves be forced into thinking about the world we live on and the things we do on it. Sounds heavy. It is and has very little to do with exhibitions and courses. (0000AU)
Remember your motives and don't get carried away. (0000AV)
I apologise for the title. (0000AW)
The Berlin wall had fallen right around the time I was hired for this job. Watching the BBC throughout the fall and winter months had been quite the experience. I, someone who had never taken to the paper before, was buying the Guardian or the Independent every day before getting on the train. I have a copy of the first Independent on Sunday stored away in a box. It has one of the best front page photos I've ever seen. (0000AX)
Even in the midst of Thatcher and the poll tax, there was a feeling of hope and connection, and the mundane world of computing events would not, could not, contain it. (0000AY)
I made several other odd decisions. One: the only two page feature has the following title "Hypertext may provide the CBT of the future". It's essentially a marketing whitepaper for a Hypercard application that we got permission to reprint (of course we got permission, it's an advertisement!). The paper arrived on my desk and I thought, "huh, this is cool" and stuck it in the print this pile. I made it into the closest thing we had to a centerfold. (0000AZ)
Thirteen years later it is once again Spring and I find myself thinking about the world we live on and the things we do on it. I wonder about my motives and how I got here. (0000B0)
My last remaining grandparent passed away on Monday. Gladden was my stepdad's mother. She died in relative peace, according to her wishes and at her home in Madras, Oregon. I barely knew her; as seems so often the case circumstances were never right for us to get to know one another and now there are the consequences. (0000B1)
Since Monday the weather has been improving. It's pleasant to think that Grandma's passing is part of the natural order of things and in some way she's responsible for the flowers showing up in the yard (0000B2)
and me out in sandals with the cat. (0000B4)
Grandma was the last of eight grandparents. My mom's mother died while I was in high school. Sometime soon after that her father died. After my first unpleasant year of college my mom and stepdad moved to England to occupy the family home: a thatched cottage in a very small village. I went to join them after my second unpleasant year of college. (0000B6)
The following Spring I published the magazine. (0000B7)
That same Spring my son was conceived. Today we sent hypertextual links of blogs back and forth with IM. This is, in very many ways, a miracle. (0000B8)
In a few weeks I'll be heading out to California to go to a party announcing BlueOxen Associates. BOA is about a lot of things but one thing that stands out is our interest in deeply-interconnected information resources that provide granular addressability. Hypertext, in other words. (0000B9)
I am relieved that Spring is here, and the flowers are blooming and I am talking with my son and I am going to parties for as I look around at the world (using a lot of hypertext) I wonder if we are preparing to waste the perfect opportunity we started in the Spring of 1990. (0000BA)
Thomasina Reads
Kitty Joyce may log on but Thomasina can read.
She's going to need glasses soon if she stays that close.
(Hoping to start a friendly cat photo cold war. If we put energy here, maybe Bush will run out of steam...)
March 11, 2003
Troubled Love
Blair and Bush love song. Brings a tear to the eye and a rueful smile to the face knowing the trouble this tortured and tortuous pair will be seeing soon.
March 10, 2003
QB: Single Malt Tasting
Good evening, Queer Barney here. Many of you, I fear, think of the groundhog as an ill-mannered creature. You see my kind as a vile, dirty, flea-infested thing that lives in holes in the ground and cares little for the finer things. I'm here to rid you of such notions. Groundhogs, especially this groundhog, are creatures of culture and taste with a subtle appreciation for beauty, grace and style. As I enter into this weblogging world I hope to share, amongst other thoughts, my understanding of what it is to be a refined and engaged groundhog. Without further ado, let's begin:
Single Malt Whisky
Tradition has it that the groundhog maintains its fine round shape from frequent visits to the pub for ale. Tradition is wrong in this case, in much the same way that tradition is wrong about my species' ability to predict the weather in February (we do that in May): the groundhog of distinction prefers scotch. I have at my disposal, through the tribute of my vassal, two passable bottles that I will review for you. The first is a ten year old Laphroaig, hailing from the island of Islay. It claims to be the most richly flavored of all Scotch whiskies. The second is The Balvenie DoubleWood 12 Year Old. It claims to be rich and mellow.
You humans appear to do your evaluations of whisky with "nosing" and "tasting". I assume this is because of certain physical limitations that I shan't embarrass you by mentioning. Suffice it to say that we groundhogs, at least some of us, seek a more complete congress with such a special beverage.
Laphroaig
Despite its pretensions of rich flavor, I felt the Laphroaig went down with ease. It presents a slight but murky nose that broadens and deepens as it enters the mouth, gracefully flowing to a sharp but pleasant finish that lingers as a long aftertaste. The overall fragrance is pungent with some smokiness. There's little trace of sweetness amongst the rather dark color. It's quite pleasant but a little dirty: an acquired taste for sure.
The Balvenie DoubleWood
The Balvenie is more immediately arresting. The aroma is compelling, inviting and ultimately irresistible. When brought to the mouth it teases with hints of sherry that expand into richly complex notes of sweetness and spiciness as it is drawn within. The DoubleWood finishes with a piquant jab that resolves to a gentle, warming descent. This is a scotch that keeps all the promises of infatuation and never becomes boring.
It should be evident which I prefer: while the Laphroaig is an experience worth having, its dark color pales when compared with the sublime pleasure to be found in a bottle of The Balvenie DoubleWood.
I hope you've enjoyed this shared moment. Until next time, eat well. --qb
Queer Barney here
especially this groundhog
amongst other thoughts
March 08, 2003
Aliens In My Home
Can anyone identify this bug? There are also similar things that have shown up around the house that are brown and bigger. I don't know what they are either. We call him Earl.
These orange creatures are magnificent. Final image for showing scale, those are the tines of a regular fork. Click on the thumbnails for bigger pics.
If you know what it is, let me know. If you have a good name for this kin of Earl, let me know about that too.
March 05, 2003
Welcome to America
It's not like it's really any better anywhere else, but holy shit: (0000AH)
http://www.cnn.com/2003/US/Northeast/03/04/iraq.usa.shirt.reut/index.html (0000AI)
A lawyer was arrested late Monday and charged with trespassing at a public mall in the state of New York after refusing to take off a T-shirt advocating peace that he had just purchased at the mall. (0000AJ)
UPDATE: As ever, things are more complicated than they initially seem: (0000AK)
http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/crossgates1.html (0000AL)
There was apparently "stopping other shoppers" involved. (0000AM)
I know, let's all stay home and be naked. (0000AN)
March 03, 2003
Helping Out Queer Barney
Barney has some code he wrote that he needs to test.
Article I.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
Article II.
A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.
Article III.
No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.
Article IV.
The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.
Article V.
No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offence to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.
Article VI.
In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defence.
Article VII.
In Suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved, and no fact tried by a jury, shall be otherwise re-examined in any Court of the United States, than according to the rules of the common law.
Article VIII.
Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.
Article IX.
The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.
Article X.
The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.
nor in time of war
without just compensation
Article III
Queer Barney
A while back I mentioned Queer Barney, a groundhog who used to live out back a place I worked long ago and not at all far away. Queer Barney's at my house now. He's been watching me sitting at this computer with some envy and bitterness. He's a bit of a cuss, but after some conversation we've negotiated that every now and again, starting sometime soon, he'll get to do a few entries here.
Here he is warming up:
Before he comes on board, I should tell you a bit about him.
In that time of long ago, at the work place mentioned, some pals and I answered the computing support phones for Indiana University. It was, in many ways, an awesome job: good people, good management, reasonable pay, walking distance from home and Queer Barney but the challenges stopped being challenges and for most of us, boredom set in and we went off to other pastures. I was sorry to leave Queer Barney behind.
Out back the workplace was not unlike a pasture: a large green field, dotted with trees and right out in the open a groundhog hole. As we took our breaks out in the sun to smoke or watch people smoke, or look at but not look at an eclipse we would often see, out there in the field a fat furry groundhog critter.
My friend Jason and I would walk home past the groundhogs lair. We did this so many times that we felt our relationship with our new furry friend demanded a naming. This was round about the time Barney the dinosaur was a hit and we hated Barney. We wanted to take the name back, make it our own, give it positive power where only negative had been. You can figure out the rest.
Body in a Coffin
A series of events in the last seventy two hours or so has done some damage to the words I've been using to describe the philosophy that supports my attitudes towards learning, communication, collaboration, tool use, knowledge transfer and a bunch of other stuff. I'm doing some ThinkOutLoud with this entry, so excuse my mess. (0000A3)
Last summer, to gain some credit for my now completed degree, I worked on a couple of independent studies. In one, my research partner and I workshopped a paper in support of formal knowledge access structures for reference, but opposed to formal knowledge representation for communication. We ran up against some opposition from some of the participants who felt we were being scruffy and illogical. (0000A4)
Being scruffy is one of my identifying characteristics and I hope I stay that way. (0000A5)
The other independent study was a readings group called Augury. We created the group in an attempt to discover connections between the philosophy of Doug Engelbart, as described in Thierry Bardini's ''Bootstrapping'' book, and embodied cognition as described in Andy Clark's ''Being There''. (0000A6)
In a fit of zealotry I went off and found what I was looking for: pivot points of connection between the two sets of ideas. It was an extremely productive time for me. I solidified many ideas that had been percolating for a few months, especially ideas associated with knowledge transfer and tool craft. (0000A7)
It was good and it was fun but unfortunately it was built on a stacked deck of cards. (0000A8)
Poupou's in a cogsci class in which they talk about brains. She has some issues with the class and the participants. A long time complaint with cognitive scientists has been that they tend to think of the brain as an entity in a jar that, with perfect information, can be recreated. I've never liked this mechanistic view of things. Embodied cognition, for me, represented a way out of that morass: brains with bodies living in the world, participants in very complex and infinite network. Poupou's comments about her class and this diatribe about embodied cognition (found by my handy little GoogleTracker whoosit) show that's not really the case. I had taken embodied cognition to mean cognition of an individual in their sensory network situated in a world environment; interactive cognition; informed cognition; world conscious cognition. Turns out, for a lot of those folks it just means having some limbs that bump into the things. (0000A9)
So we go from brains in jars to bodies in coffins; a slight movement of the membrane outward. Wee ha! Go team! Great, cheers, thanks a lot; I still think I'm right: my interpretation of embodied cognition, maybe call it environmental cognition (although it looks like maybe that's been taken over by people who think of the environment as "out there" while the brain is "in there"), and the roots it finds in folks like Heidegger and Bateson, is still strongly supportive of Engelbart's philosophy and human-centered improvement and agumentation. (0000AA)
How does this fit in with formal knowledge representations? The gang over at the Blue Oxen Collaboration Collaboratory are having a chat about structured-dialog systems. Many of the participants in the group are big fans of outliners and IBIS. They're neaties, not scruffies. There is some historical precedent that tries to put Doug Engelbart in with the neaties and Ted Nelson with the scruffies (I think this is not right, but people seem to enjoy the fight). Some of the collaboratory members appear to feel formal knowledge representations are a personal aid in communication. I heartily disagree with this principle. Formal knowledge representations are a secondary or tertiary step: communication first (scruffy communication) followed by digestion and summarization. One of the participants touches on this. A process of facilitation is required, either by oneself or someone else, to get to the "formal" state. (0000AB)
Once in the formal state, the information (or knowledge, if you insist) is available for reference and is valuable as such. It is not, however, valuable as communication. Communication is what people do with one another, situated in their worlds. If one insists in the use of formal representations for communication and in the belief of an achievable truly shared ontology one is there in the coffin, not too far from the jar, being a brain, without a world. When the world's not really there, what happens in the brain can sometimes be far more important and enjoyable than what is going on in the world and action outside the world may slip away in favor of a process of regular and eventually useless brain lubrication. (0000AC)
March 02, 2003
A Pond
Poupou's been disappointed in me for not showing her the pond in the back yard. Eric and Anne were in town and their combined weight shamed me into relinquishing my fuddy duddiness for a few minutes and back to the pond we went.
It's way back in the furthest corner of the back yard. In the summer it is surrounded by masses of brambles and other nasties that make it no fun to reach. In the winter it is a little easier. Fed by a spring, it's rarely fully frozen and on this particular day there was no ice, lots of mud, and deer tracks and scat all about. I should get a big hacking mochine and slash a path: when summer arrives we can relax back there with the mosquitoes (bad) and frogs (good).
A fine visit was had with E&A, as usual.
