“stream of thought”
13 posts under this tag.
Ah, I’m happy. As I ride the CalTrain from San Jose, I realize that after less than a week I feel more at home here, more at ease, than I’ve ever felt in Mexico. Tuesday I went to a Long Now talk by Nassim Nicholas Taleb and got to glimpse such legendary people as Stewart Brand and Kevin Kelly. Yesterday night I went to Google (!) to an Android talk after having spent the morning in the Asian museum and the afternoon studying in the library. Today I just finished the first half of a wonderful (free!) 2-day course on AIR from Adobe. The plan is to cap the day with some Permutation City at the public library. Ah, this is how I want to live!
And it’s not only the flashy things that have me captivated, it’s being alone again, having problems and solving them, meeting strangers every day, waking before dawn effortlessly because there’s so much to do… It’s being able to speak in the same language that I think and enjoying my tongue as it twists and rolls on its own better than I had ever seen it. It’s seeing Lynda.com ads on the bus stop. It’s noticing everyday a new, unexpected way that tasks are streamlined here, automated —small pieces of civilization, like the chord to request for a stop in buses, how their doors open by standing on the steps, or how their stops are automatically both announced by a pre-recorded voice and displayed in an electronic ticker. It’s learning new, cutting-edge technologies and having someone to talk them with (never had felt like a “developer” before until I realized I felt at ease among them). It’s finding a purdy gal everytime you look around (not just lust, the ratio of childfree 20/30-somethings is way up). It’s eating a different cuisine every day (recent finds: chicken tikka masala and thai pancakes). It’s that sense of mastery at turning the new into routine and rhythm.
Now I just have to find a way to hack the law and become a free agent (someone who can work and start a startup) or I’ll have to move sooner rather than later to Canada… any ideas?
I wasn’t expecting such beauty. It caught me off guard today. There was a time, just after midday, as I walked along Ocean Beach, when it all overwhelmed me—the slapping wind, the silly birds, the fellow walkers, the kiting surfers, the full sky, the white rocks, the nature right besides, the glistening, sparkling, glimmering, scintillating water.
[San Francisco] children are to be pitied, for, as the wife of publishing magnate Nelson Doubleday once said, “They will probably grow up thinking all cities are so wonderful.”
Oh, and I just bought an apple for 1.75 dollars.
Finally! I’m in San Francisco, for at least two weeks, in what should be my beachhead for a longterm stay!
No offense to the big apple, but San Francisco is just so much better. If New York is Mexico City, San Francisco is Guadalajara: prettier, classier, cleaner, ampler, prettier peopled…
I’m amazed by the huge number of Asians everywhere (Asian women never fail to transfix me…), by the opulence and beauty of the city, by the overwhelming wealth and retail saturation of America (one forgets it so easily in the 3rd world), by the beggars, by my cool hostel, by how it has rained all day long, by how the swankest part of town (Union Square) can be right next to the seediest one (Tenderloin), by how stereotypically rural Mexican where most of my flightmates (rarely does one get to see so many cowboy hats, boots, and rebozos), by how happy I am…
“I’ve always accepted my groggy mornings because they come with my glorious nights.”
anglo latin; the origin of latin america as a word; my high school wasn’t bilingual, it was English with Spanish as a second language; I always say math and language are the same ability because they’re the same thing, math is just specialized talk about numbers; but then zoology is just talk about animals…; the difference is that math is, in a farly unparalleled way, advanced through language itself (as opposed to, say, zoology, which, advances chiefly through observation); the way forward in language is through logic; logic is syntax; understanding is synthesizing and paraphrasing; {an algorithm just like flooding to create a machine that understood, as previously defined—one wouldn’t even need to define what a word is}; Wikipedia syntax highlighting!
Glorious, thought-drunken night.
Turns out you can easily break DRM-ed LIT ebooks while as far as I know your PDF ones—if tightly DRM-ed, and these days they all are—are lost for good—leaving you as a sucker who can’t even copy paste and interesting quote; heck, a sucker who can’t even lend the ebook to a friend (hurrah for technology!).
Interesting how piracy can actually be a good thing for business: yesterday I bought a digital version of Peter Watson’s 800-paged IdeasAM (to go with my paper version) only because it was available as a LIT. I then immediately broke the DRM (Microsoft Reader is a joke) and had the—again, 800-paged book—as an HTML mine to edit and tweak. This is just the encouragement I needed to start reading the book—just imagine, I can now tweak the format just like I want it (and as you may have noticed I am a format freak—I like my italics in a slightly more remarkable tone, my parenthetical text slightly subdued, my quotes highlighted), I can turn footnotes into sidenotes, I can 1-click-Answers.com every word, I can copy-paste to Evernote and Devonthink (these days I just can’t conceive of reading a book without highlighting, now it’s getting intolerable not being able to immediately save select quotes in a digital form1), I can upload to my webserver and have it always some seconds away, I can read it in my berry, I can print it, I can find-as-I-type, I can link, annotate, or rewrite, I can…
Last Saturday, Gwyn invited me to the First Flickr Phototour of GuadalajaraWP. I didn’t know what to expect or what the hell a phototour was (I brought my camera rather as an afterthought), but I wanted to meet that mysterious Gwyn and get some air. (My parents wouldn’t let me go at first, having read in the day’s newspaper about some local murderers that met their victims through the web. When they finally read the article more carefully and found the victims were local gays hooking up dates online, they exhaled, relieved, and let me go without further ado. Which was homophobic and then some but I can’t change the world all at once—I was too late already.)
Well, it was unbelievable fun. I read somewhere that as we grow old we stop seeing things and only name them instead. You look around your room and instead of seeing the bed—its shadows, texture, pattern, perspective—you call it “bed”—and move on. Precipice locals, from John Brunner’s WP Shockwave RiderWP novel, had a very peculiar way to fight this tendency:
“Say, I wonder how much further it is to Great Circle Course. Can we have come too far? No street names are marked up anywhere.”
“I noticed. That’s of a piece with everything else. Helps to force you back from the abstract set to the reality. Of course it’s something that can only work in a small community, but—well, how many thousands of streets have you passed along without registering anything but the name? I think that’s one of the forces driving people to distraction. One needs solid perceptual food same as one needs solid nutriment; without it, you die of bulk-hunger. There’s an intersection, see?”
With my formistELZR obsession and my “My kingdom is not from this world.” joke, I am of course guilty of such distracted overnaming. (It has been, in fact, a point of pride.) And so it was a revelation for me to be forced by the shutter to shut up and simply look around.
There was a point, while we visited the Hospicio Cabanhas, when my euphoria was reaching religious-experience proportions. Everything was suddenly so sensual, so fresh and poignant EEM, so physical, so there. I looked and looked at stones and tree bark and white walls, and they seemed suddenly infinite in their detail.
I have to go back there soon. Sit in the middle of that huge, geometric patio, and read, design, or program the morning away. Which reminds me, I had this weird impossible idea before breakfastELZR (I skipped it) that with its many patios, its huge rooms, and its beautiful cloisters, the Hospicio Cabanhas would be the perfect media hotel!ELZR We’ll see when we can afford it.
So, yeah, I had a great, crazy time. Check out my photoset, Gwyn’s, and Pedro’s.
Here some of my favorite shots:
People, cultures, and institutions create, share, and influence each other’s values; media is the landscape where this interaction takes place; literacy is the ability to participate consciously in it.
..what we have to do first then is understand the nature of stories and why we tend to believe them, why we mistake our stories and our myths for fact, and that’s going to be the beginning of how we can dissemble them. The moment that I got this, was, I guess I was a freshman in college when the third, and probably still worst of the Star Wars movies came out, Return of the Jedi. Luke and Hans get captured by those little teddy bear creatures, the Ewoks, on the moon of Endor, do you remember this? And the Ewoks are having their little barbecue party or whatever they’re doing, princess Leia is allowed to be free, because she’s a girl, whatever, but Hans and Luke are tied up. Do you remember how they get out of captivity? C3PO and R2D2 tell the Ewoks a story. C3PO speaks perfect Ewok, and he’s all golden, they think he’s a god. He starts telling the great story of the wonderful rebels, Luke and Hans, and how they’re fighting the imperial starship. R2D2 starts projecting holographic images of this battles, and you see the little Ewok eyes going back and forth, going “Oh my god!” They’ve never seen holographic technology, they’ve never heard a story told this well. The story so wins them over that these Ewoks not only release Hans and Luke, but they fight a war on their behalf. They fight a war against those big robot things. In which Ewoks die. What I thought at this moment—as an emerging little media theorist—was: what would have happened if Darth Vader had gotten down to that moon first and told his story, with his special effects? They’d have fought for him, I promise you! They’d have fought for him.
...and the style of narrative changed too, we started to get shows like The Simpsons, which were no longer this [the traditional crisis, climax, sleep narrative]; we didn’t care of Homer, what, is he’s gonna live or not, is he gonna lose his job or not. No, now what we’re doing in this big chaotic fractal-like media-space where we’re all talking and exchanging ideas with each other, giving away software to each other, now it’s about making connections. It’s about finding patterns in this media space. When you watch The Simpsons, the reward is not the cookie that you get for making it through the story, the reward is making an association. Oh, here they’re satiring Alfred Hitchcock. Oh, this is a satire of that commercial. Here’s, that’s… Connections, connections and openings, connections and openings. It’s no longer a beginninzg, middle, and end: it’s a series of connections.
17% of Americans believe the world will end in their lifetime and only 23% believe in evolution. Why? Evolution gives you a way out, evolution gives you an alternative to this. Rather than the preordained story, we can write another one, we can change, we can evolve, something else can emerge. The frightening thing about having an emerging narrative is that it means there’s no pre-existing story. It means maybe we weren’t put here with meaning at all. Maybe there was no intent. Maybe meaning is something that we do. Maybe meaning is something that we make, not a pre-existing condition. That meaning is made. But how? Through collaboration. Ain’t gonna get no meaning alone, it can’t be done alone in a series of consumer choices. We’ve tried that one. If you could do it that way, would we be doing this conference? No. You can’t. You only get meaning by connecting with other people. Through the discovery of connections and interrelationships.
Question: Something that resonated with me was a comment you made about [how] we need to develop a new kind of story through collective ownership and collective authorship, and there’ve been a lot of news stories that have come through various different individuals. The example was given from the X-Files that the authorship was taken over by a collective of individuals. My question would be, where do you see that threshold point where it’s taken from an individual and moved into the collective?..
The bane of my existence this question, for a long time. Because the main thing I’m studying these days is narrative: why do we construct narratives on reality? why do we need narratives? and then, how can we develop new narrative structures? I think some of you got this novel I wrote called Exit StrategyAM, and the challenge with that was I wanted to create some kind of an open-source collective experience, but I didn’t want to have the situation were if you’re letting a whole group of people write Star Trek with you, one kid kills Spock on the second page, and then you’re dead. So far I’ve found that the easiest way to do collective narrative experiments is to let the collective recontextualize the story.. the Talmudic process really.. There has to be a certain amount of agreement at the beginning: we’re going to play with this myth, we’re going to play with this story.
Mi storyteller hermana Shmito nos narra su mas reciente patoaventuraWP:
Manoloooooo!!!
I am in pain!!!
Tengo una lesion abrasiva en la parte inferior de mi gluteo derechoooo!!!!
Deje le hago la cronica de lo sucedido:
 Pues mire, sucede que aqui en Guadalajara los domingos de 8 a 2 de la tarde cierran varias calles por el centro de la ciudad y le llaman Via Recreactiva. Va mucha gente a andar en bici, caminar, correr, on en patines. Yo opte por la ultima, los patines, porque me los compre alla en Houston y los queria estrenar. Pues fuimos mi familia y yo a la mentada via recreactiva. Todo iba bien—shhht-shhht—deslizandome por las calles de cemento, hasta que llegamos a un paso a desnivel (de los que son por arriba, no los subterraneos) y pues con todo mi esfuerzo subi, y a la bajada dije ”uju! Voy a agarrar un impulsito super cool!!”. Fui estupida, lo se—inocencia quiero llamarlo. Total que iba hecha la madreeee!! Manolo, agarre muchisisisisimo impulsooo!! no me podia frenar!! Temi horrible por mi vida! Mis opciones eran, estamparme intencionalmente contra el camellon o el como barandalito de los lados (lo que era un madrazazazo seguro y una probable muerte en el intento), o seguir bajando e intentar lograrlo.  Asi que segui bajando, agarrando cada vez mas y mas velocidad, temiendo cada vez mas y mas por mi vida, tratando de esquivar toda imperfeccion de la calle que pudiera causar mi caida. Todo iba bien, casi lo logro Manolo!! Cuando inesperadamente me di cuenta que justo cuando se termina la bajada, se termina tambien el cementito bonito y empieza un asfalto horrible lleno de pequeñas y letales piedritas e inumerables baches (imperceptibles a los carros y bicicletas, pero la pesadilla de cualquier patinador). Pero a esas alturas era muy tarde para intentar hacer algo. Asi que iba yo con todo el impulso de la bajada… llegue al asfalto… y sucedio lo inevitable… cai Manoloooo!!! Fue horribleeeeeeeeeeeee!! Me fui como de lado, raro… porque cai con mi mano derecha apoyada (ahora raspada) y con mi trasero-pierna derechos (raspadisimos). No me podia levantar Manolooo!!!  Mi piernita temblabaaaaa! Pero unas señoras se apiadaron de mi y me ayudaron a levantarme, y como no habia desayunado nada, como que del susto y todo me empeze a marear. Pero bueno, me recupere y segui patinando, ya no me quedaba de otra. Me dolia mi pierna en el lugar del golpe, pero no habia baños ni nada donde me pudiera ver. Asi que segui como por una hora y media mas, hasta que terminamos nuestro recorrido en un restaurante para desayunar. Para esto ya traia super super hinchada mi piernita en esa areaaa!! Cuando entre al baño a verme… Santa madree Manoloo!! Me asuste!! Se ve horriblee, es como una gran quemada, mezclada con raspada, mezclada con el aporreamiento del sentonazo!! Se ve super super feo, y duele aun peor!!!
Llegando a mi casa me iba a bañar, pero me quede dormida y despues de como 8 horas me desperte. me lave y #$$%&x%x madre, me dolio hasta el alma, pero bueno, ya esta limpito ahi.
Ahora solo tendre que esperar como 1 año de aqui a que sane esa horrible herida.
Bueno, esa es mi historia. Se la platico esperando que se divierta un rato a expensas de mi sufrimiento.
Ese fue un subtitulo de la portada del Publico de hoy. Para ser honestos, no suelo tener el menor interes por los deportes pero lo lei de rapido solo por aquello de enterarme de lo mas relevante del dia. Lo curioso fue lo primero que pense al leerlo:
...interesante, “festejo ganandole”, mmm, “festejo ganandole”, interesante, no es una forma que uno ve muy a menudo, por que la habran escogido? “festejo ganandole”, como mas podrian haberlo escrito? a ver, a ver, mmm, a ver, “festejo…”, “festejo ganarle al..”!, muy bien, ah!, “festejo al ganarle..”, muy bien, ya son 2 formas alternas, cual es la diferencia entre ellas y la forma original, en verdad difieren en significado? bueno, pues, si, creo que si, con “Atlas festejo ganarle al Boca Juniors” estableces claramente que el Atlas festejo por haberle ganado al Boca Juniors, con “Atlas festejo al ganarle al Boca Juniors” tambien dices que festejo por haber ganado pero insinuas que tambien tenia otro motivo de festejo, finalmente, con “Atlas festejo ganandole al Boca Juniors” no dejas duda de que aparte de festejar por ganar, el Atlas definitivamente tenia otro motivo para festejar de antemano…
Estoy enfermo?
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