“personal”

Final part of Stunde Null, following Part 1 and Part 2

As I would better learn the next morning, the detention center was a nice, non-descript government building in the middle of, get this, upper-middle-class Phoenix suburbia. They take, though, such care in camouflaging that I doubt many neighbors know right next door illegal aliens are being held captive.

They searched me again, and again for weapons. They took away my book. Cops where white, some Hispanic, one of them had some arm-covering tattoos, San Francisco style. A bus was being loaded with a throng of short, tiny, Latin Americans of obvious illegality and indigenous roots, people whom you can tell just by looking that they have never eaten meat on a regular basis, faces and bodies eaten away by poverty and disease. They weren’t treated badly, what I saw was the same detached professionalism afforded to me.

The sequel to Stunde Null, Part 1

Moreover, it made no game-theory sense for me to tell the truth. The only good outcome for me was getting scott free and however increasingly remotely, that was only possible if I kept lying. Everything else was pretty much the same bad outcome. So I just played the game as long as I could. Just as they also played intimidating and antagonistic as long as they had to.

So I was happy to discover that the same ability of abstraction that allows me to read or think or program for hours on end allowed me to detach from the whole thing and treat it as a game that I had probably already lost, so why not play it for fun now? And it was, indeed, in a bizarre sense, fun—flow.

Until they got into my computer (and my iPhone). That was the part that still angers and shames me the most. Anger, because my computer is not just a tool, as it is for my father say; it is as intimate and integral a part of me as my neocortex and I felt just as violated as if they could read my thoughts and stare at my naked psyche. Shame, because I should have known better, I should have been more careful. Because I know how to protect and hide a computer (they were barely computer literate themselves, I was almost helping them troubleshoot their crappy system afterwards). I had read Little Brother for crying out loud. I should have known better.

Yesterday:

The window on the plane to Phoenix, the first stop of the trip to SF, showed the most stunning (and varied) cloud vistas I’ve ever seen: puffy, chunky, grape-y over the ocean, specks and daubs, strips and archs… We were very late yet just in time to the most spectacular, glaring sunset I can recall. The terrain was flatter than paved and the rare mountain or wrinkle were surreal, engulfed in a 3d-program plane of flatness or marred by veins that were rivers and lakes. I saw city-piercing highways from above for the first time and they were majestic and car choked. The street grid was perfect and every house had a pool. I didn’t know it would be the last time I’d look at the States in years.

Yesterday I got deported from the US on my way back from my mom’s 50th birthday in Mexico. Visa revoked for a year. I’m alright, friends. Saddened and stunned, yet exhilarated by the challenge. The world beckons.

I have so much to write about all this, I remember it so vividly… Expect a long post no longer than tonight.

Enough is enough. I don’t overmuch care for my looks but as Scott Adam says: “physical appearance is for the benefit of others.” It’s been years now and them comedones (white- and blackheads), papules, pustules, nodules, cysts, and milia ain’t getting any better by themselves. I’ve buried my pimpled head long enough!

I’ve tried several treatments over the years but nothing has really made any difference. Now, I’m going to start following the regimen suggested at Daniel Kern’s Acne.org, where I’ve found hope and, to my surprise, perhaps the best online store I know of.

More than a store, it’s a community and a resource for people fighting acne. A real community and a real resource, not like those crappy, dishonest spamsites parasiting the web. It’s usable and helpful, aesthetically pleasing and modern yet not flashy. Huge effort has been put into countless details across the website—you can tell by being pleasantly surprised at every turn. It’s enormously didactic, deploying at once both excellent copy, ingenious photos, superb diagrams, detailed videos, in-depth tests, and subtle yet effective graphic design.

Overall, the most amazing thing is that in this cynical spam-full age, you (at least I) come to believe Daniel Kern honestly cares about fighting acne.

So, check out Acne.org if you have acne, if you’re interested in online commerce/communities, or if you’re interested in the future of retail medicine.

(Peter Morville narrates an interesting, similar experience finding a kooky cure to his back pain thru the web in Ambient Findability, p 163)

Jump Point’s presentation the other day neither captivated nor disappointed me. Author Tom Hayes rapid-fired commonplaces for every enticing bit. About to forget it as yet one more glib futurist book, I saw it again today at my B & N, added it to my skimming pile (oh, the joys of American bookstores: they’re even better places for free reading than public libraries), and stumbled on a quote that took my heart away:

I love his phrase. In 20 something words he nails down the present and future I want to contribute to, belong to.

Starting to feel more comfortable at Valley events. There aren’t that many of us out there in the web scene and you stumble on the same people over and over, which is great because it’s really starting to feel like a community. Strangers become familiar faces become acquaintances become friends.

I also like how fast being at the center of the web world becomes blase. Suddenly meeting the inventor of the mouse, Amazon’s creator, DHH, or the founders of those cool startups you love becomes just one more day. And it’s not that nonchalance by itself has any merit but that once you get pass the wide-eyed gawking you can actually start being part of that world. One hopes.

When out of dumb luck I found myself the owner of an advance-reading, not-for-sale copy of Cory Doctorow’s new novel, Little Brother (Amazon, Facebook, Cory’s reading), due to be released this April the 29th, I knew I’d have to gulp it down in one rapt, sleepless night. Cory’s a writer worthy of that, but it was also, well, my first “scoop” ever.

It’s past 6am and I’ve done just that. And before crashing into bed I just want it out that it is Cory’s best novel yet. Science fiction about our present, with our current, unevenly distributed future only slightly jiggled. A novel about America after a terrorist attack bigger than 9/11 and the young hackers who rebel at the idiotic police state that ensues.

It made me feel I belonged to San Francisco, to California, more than ever. It was stomach churning and exhilarating and fun. Yeah, it can be a tad over-educational and preachy at times but just a tad and to its great merit it makes security topics accessible and immensely interesting. The teenage voice of the main characters is a gem (Cory has always shined in dialogue, the more technology mediated the better) and their sexual fumblings are so masterful and eerily accurate (to me, at least) that wistfulness tore me apart. It made me want to hack a new world.

An important book, sure to change many lives.

Believe.