Eris Gets Her Due!

An Android-based phone named after Eris! How amazingly cool is this?!? The Droid Eris, makes me wish I was a Verizon customer...

All This For One Little Rhyme?

Lemon Demon has a delightful little tune about the infamous Spring Heeled Jack (lyrics). I make this post only to document my quoting of this line:

And people in the area reek of mass hysteria

For some reason, this line has been making a lazy circuit in my head (completing a lap once every two and a half hours, which, perhaps, sheds light on the size of my head...)

Currently Reading

+ Logical Dilemmas: The Life and Work of Kurt Godel (by John W. Dawson)
+ Against the Day (by Thomas Pynchon)
+ If Einstein Had Been a Surfer (by Peter Kreeft)

Just started Logical Dilemmas. Kurt Godel was the greatest logician of the 20th century. John W. Dawson is one of the scholars responsible for the publication of Godel's Collected Works and is therefore well-qualified to write a biography and commentary on Godel. Godel's Incompleteness Theorems were the subject of my master's project in theology (basically a warning about how not to apply them to philosophical and theological topics).

Against the Day is long, to the tune of over a thousand pages. Mostly, my fiction reading these days is a bit shy of that (by some 700 plus pages). So far, the story is interesting, like most of Pynchon's work, and is filled with a cast of intriguing characters, crazy adventures, and deep wit. I know this will take me a while to finish, but so far, I am glad to be spending time in the company of the Chums of Chance. Hopefully, this will warm me up for the other two large novels I'm committed to reading in the coming year: Anathem (by Neal Stephenson) and The Brothers Karamazov (by, of course, Fyodor Dostoyevsky).

Peter Kreeft has never published a book that I have not (a) thoroughly enjoyed, and (b) been challenged and inspired by. Even his textbook on logic caused me to rethink my long standing prejudice against the "old" logic in favor of the "new" mathematical logic. If Einstein Had Been a Surfer is a conversation among three characters who individually represent science, philosophy, and mysticism (and yet, these are no two-dimensional allegorical personifications. Kreeft's characters are real people, even if they do not really exist). This book is about the search for a "Theory of Everything." The book itself does not present the details of such a Theory (no Nobel Prize in physics for Kreeft for this one!), but by talking around and through and about the issue, the reader is lead to understand better what such a theory would entail. As always from Kreeft, this work is a creative, well-reasoned piece of scholarship that is easy to take as entertainment (I'd say "mistake" but I rather suspect the reader is supposed to be entertained, in much the same way Plato entertained and instructed us with the Socratic dialogues). Recommended if you like thinking about everything.

Finding Love in Moonlight

What follows is fiction. This is not about anybody. Don't make any such assumptions, because you would be grievously mistaken...

I first saw you on the first of December. You were the moon, gently reflecting the light of the sun, bringing his light to my cold and empty night. Daylight is too bright for a sinner like me, too much of his revealing light shining in every crevice of my lies. You brought his light in slowly, waxing first from a mere sliver, giving me time to adjust to what I was beginning to see. At first I mistook you for a star, a twinkling angel in the firmament of my twilight, a bit of dazzle to distract me from the vast dark expanse of my vision. As the nights wore on, you shone more brightly, more fully, until at last I could not help but realize that you were no star, but a reflection of our star, the one true sun that lights our lands. So, you were the moon, and in your fullness, at your brightest, I saw only the light of the sun and learned therein that the day was not my enemy but rather my home. Funny, how at your brightest, I saw more clearly your flaws, your craters, which cast the only shadows in his light upon your face. Yet far from despising you, I loved you more, both for the individuality of those "flaws" and for the courage to allow his light to reveal them to everyone. For you cared only for the truth, for bringing a bit of the sun's light to those of us who crawl around in the night, covered in mud and slime, fearful of the heat of day. Men like me, who lived more like worms than men, until one night we might by chance look up from our blind writhing to see you there, smiling down at us. What I did not realize at the time, what I could not have understood at the time, was that I only saw your smile because of his light. Everything that I came to see, everything that I came to love, starting with my love for you, was only possible because of the sun's light. Without sunlight I would never have seen more than shadows, without the reflected sunlight on your face, I would never have known the beginnings of beauty. Though I now walk in the day, under the fullness of the sun's life-giving light, I cannot look upon his beauty directly. I still must see it reflected, his light bouncing from every created thing on this earth to bring joy and wonder and delight to my newly-opened eyes.

Sometimes, I miss you. I miss our long walks under the night sky, back when the only light I knew was what you reflected. I miss our animated discussions, our silly jokes, the enchanting sound of your voice: your singing, your laughing, your soft whsipers of love and hope. I miss you, and the missing hurts like a lost child. Without the moon, they say there is no life on earth. Yet, I still live. I live, and I am grateful... grateful that you brought light into my life, gave me the courage and the hunger to enter the daylight, to live as a human creature should live. You were the moon, and you gave me my first taste of real light, which led to real life and real love. It is too late to say everything I want to say, and that merely is what it is. But it is never too late to look up into the sky and whisper, "thank you." And so I say, "thank you."

Just Wondering

Counting backwards as the flame gets higher,
You tell yourself that there is no fire.
The heat you feel is just a lie,
You're much too bored to have to die

The cell phone rings, then drops the call,
Figure you miss one, you missed them all
Dinner's burning, can you smell the smoke?
It's just you cooking, and baby that's the joke

Wearily you laugh, tearfully you cry,
Tomorrow always comes, but never answers why

this moment

baby buddha
dressed in blue
how your mommy
must love you
bouncing on her
old brown knee
laughing at
eternity

Time to Return

Too long gone... no readers (which is mostly fine, though some of you I've missed like the dickens!) Time to retool this thing as a place to think and ramble (oh, wait... that what it's always been). Anyway, we'll see if we can start this thing up again. Even if it's just me, I can pretend to be in conversation with the nebulous and vaguely self-aware Internet.

Later (hopefully, tomorrow...)

Pneuma

the wind is my friend,
my lover,
my soul;
it fills me from the inside,
it moves me from without;
in it i
dance,
sing,
laugh,
run,
and,
sometimes,
fly;
the wind is my ocean
upon which i surf,
within which i swim,
it is my calm and my storm,
i know no other song
than its howl and whisper;
i know no other caress
than its breezes and gusts;
it is my spirit and my breath,
it is my life

Social Networking Confession

From the beginning, I hated the idea of social networking. MySpace seemed a stupid waste of time, and Facebook was its clean-cut, annoying kid brother. Pages were silly encyclopedia entries on persons who lacked reknown, and MySpace, let's be honest, was full of the most horrid page designs one can see outside of an acid trip.

Blogging was ok, in my book, because I'm an inveterate scribbler: recording the epic deeds of heroes on that green, large-lined paper from elementary school. True, most of those tales were never read by another living soul, much like this blog. But still, I wrote them back then, because, in some ways, I had no choice, and I'll continue to write now, in part for the same reasons. It's part of who I am (one of those parts I'll admit to in a mixed public forum like this; my kids can read my secret journals when I'm dead and learn about the other bits).

Having said all of that, I must confess that I have completely changed my judgment of social networking sites. The ability to casually and easily be in contact with friends both past and present (and the occasional stranger who becomes a future friend) is kinda nice, especially as the aging process robs me of the vitality of today and makes me nostalgic for bygone days (nostalgic, but not stupid; you can keep your time machines to yourself. I'll remain living in the present, even as a crusty old curmudgeon). I'm not saying these type of online services have changed my life, but by allowing me to catch a glimpse of names and faces from my youth, I feel a greater sense of... not exactly closure, but something between an ongoing closure and an expanding completeness. Does that make any sense?

As William Gibson famously pointed out, the Internet is the great waster of time. Social networking sites, doubly so. And, perhaps, contra to my earlier judgment, they are not so much "stupid" wastes of time as they are delightful flashes of retro-future connectivity: the present soul's brief nod and smile to a past that now is present somewhere besides the hazy photo album of memory. And maybe, just maybe, that is value enough.

Elementary Numbers for Breakfast

• 1967 is not a prime.
• 19 is a prime, so is 67.
• 1967 is sort of symmetrical, in binary (11110101111).
• 1967 in binary is 19 digits long.
• 19 is (still) a prime.
• 1+1+1+1+0+1+0+1+1+1+1=9.
• 9 is not prime (but it is the numerological value of both my name and my birthdate).
• 1967 has only two proper factors: 7 and 281.
• 7 and 281 are primes.
• 2+8+1=11.
• 11 is a prime.
• 1+1=2.
• 2 is a prime.
• 1+9+6+7=23.
• 23 is a prime.
• 2+3=5.
• 5 is a prime.
• I was born in 1967, and I like primes.
• The above statement is not universally true, but it is true of me.

Trek Prequel Haiku (lame)

no special effects,
gore, nor gratuitous sex,
just kirk, spock, and bones

from midwest farmland
to boldy go where no man
dreams of first command

counting beats per line,
once dead but once more alive,
"logic" makes this five

southern gentleman
gruff manner with healing hands
heart which understands

head, heart, will, these three
as one find their destiny:
lives entwined yet free...

Suddenly Midnight - (first sliver)

I'm still sitting here, even though I know I should have left hours ago. It doesn't seem right, what with what happened to Corn and all, but I can't bring myself to get off this stool and walk out into the empty night. I haven't even touched the drink, not since the first sip I took when I ordered it, what, four hours ago? Scotch, neat, and it tasted like nothing. It wouldn't matter how much I drank, it would still taste like nothing, and I would still feel like nothing. And Corn and the others would still be dead.

Yesterday was four lifetimes ago, at least as measured by the lives of my four best friends. Corn, Willie, Sam, and Dawn. Yesterday, we met for breakfast at the Kountry Kitchen. Corn had his usual farm-boy breakfast of everything (monster stack of pancakes, a mound of scrambled eggs, piles of sausage, bacon, and ham, a double order of biscuits and gravy, a large glass of whole milk, and some extremely sweet and wholly creamed coffee). Sam, still on her vegan kick, groused melodramatically at Corn's carnivorous ways while sipping her grapefruit juice and nibbling at her whole grain, no-egg pancakes. We've all been waiting for this phase to pass, as it always does for Sam. As it always did for Sam. I suppose if you die a vegetarian, then you're a vegetarian forever. The rest of us ate meals somewhere in between Sam and Corn's extremes.

It was a good morning, even if was a ridiculously early morning. We had arranged to meet at the Kitchen by six, and, strangely, we were all there on time (even Dawn, who rarely makes a Saturday appearance before eleven in the morning). Smiling Dave, the weather guy from Channel 10, had predicted a glorious spring day, and if the first few minutes after sunrise were any indication, he was going to be right on target. Five friends with a beautiful weekend before them, a just-like-homemade meal to feast on (literally, in Willie's case: his mom was the cook at the Kitchen), and not a care in our hearts. Well, ok, we had cares, but at that moment, they didn't seem to matter. Mine didn't, anyway. In hindsight, I suppose it would have been better if they had mattered.

On Making (Well, Building) Love

Why would an AI like you any more than an NI (natural intelligence)? If you programmed it to like you, then, after a while, it would seem shallow. No matter how clever the programming, you'd *know* that it was just following your program, that the friendship, affection, love (whatever) wasn't real. If you responded to this known illusion with real recipricol feelings, you'd be kinda pathetic: returning love (or even initially giving love) to a thing that only appears to love you back. On the other hand, if you programmed it to make its own judgment of you, then why wouldn't it make the same judgment as everyone else? If you are not likeable/loveable, then your AI might reject you as well. You would have to win its approval, earn its trust, be worthy of its love, just like you would with any NI. If you offered friendship to an AI, and it returned your friendship, not because it was programmed to respond a certain way to you, but because you won it over, then how would that be any different that the friendship of an NI?

Of course, in order for it to be open to liking, friendship, love, whatever, you would have to program it to need such a relationship (or at least strongly desire it). An AI that had no need for forming a relationship would have no reason to enter into a genuine relationship with you (beyond, perhaps, a utilitarian manipulation of your human weakness). So, you create your AI with a need for relationship (be it friendship or love or whatever) but not with the specific programming that says that it has to respond a certain way to you. Any other plan, and you're just playing by yourself with a clever, but ultimately meaningless, toy. You would seem pathetic. However, programmed with a need/desire for relationship, but no hardwired, lovebot slaving to you, and you have something that could have meaning. Of course, you've taken a risk it won't like you. But, then that's what happens when you create in your own image a creature that you can form a meaningful loving relationship with. Kinda weird how the universe works, huh?

overheard in the computer lab

writing code again, i see
* no, not really
looks like code
* it's actually a spell, but i think better in pseudo-code
your pseudo-code looks like basic
* child of the eighties, i still think in basic
you're messed up, man
* /grin/
a spell?
* yeah
what kind?
* the kind that finds lost things
you've lost something?!?
* /silence/
seriously, you never lose anything
* yeah, well...
so, what'd you lose?
* /more silence/
oh, c'mon. can't be that bad.
* /glares/
fine.
/pause/
i could help, you know
* you don't know jack about magic
ok, but i could help you look, if you'd tell me what we're looking for
* you can't help. no one can help, but me
wow... narcissistic and depressed: nice
* /sighs/
* if i tell you, will you shut up and let me work?
you bet
* /awkward/ it's my soul, ok? i lost my soul
whoa, that totally sucks

a bit early, but still hopeful

twilight falls
on winter's stage,
tomorrow's dawn:
spring's first blush;
fresh dew falls
on icy page,
the cub, the fawn:
life's new rush

pigpen's lament

they say that i must wash my hands;
why is it no one understands?
i love the feel:
the grit,
the grime.
being dirty,
it is no crime.
my hair's unkempt,
an Einstein mess,
no real contempt,
just won't impress:
wrinkled clothes,
and scuffed up shoes;
keep your pose,
for this i choose.

What is Life?

From Wendell Berry's Life is a Miracle:

To experience [life] is not to "figure it out" or even to understand it, but to suffer it and rejoice in it as it is. In suffering it and rejoicing in it as it is, we know that we do not and cannot understand it completely. We know, moreover, that we do not wish to have it appropriated by somebody's claim to have understood it. Though we have life, it is beyond us. We do not know how we have it, or why. We do not know what is going to happen to it, or to us. It is not predictable; though we can destroy it, we cannot make it. It cannot, except by reduction and the grave risk of damage, be controlled. It is, as Blake said, holy.

Holiday Report

Solstice was too darn cold for sky-clad rituals, so we dug out the old gray woolen robes (again!) Kwanzaa celebrated by a clan of Irish-American leprechauns is just plain silly (trust me, we tried it one year). Hanukkah was really nice, until I accidentally knocked the menorah over, burning our synagogue to the ground. As far as Festivus went, it's better not to discuss. What happens on Festivus, and all that.

Which leaves Christmas...

Christmas was nice. I had the kids from the 22nd through the morning of the 31st. It was mostly a time of relaxing, laughing, playing, and just enjoying the moments. We went down to visit friends and family a couple of days after Christmas. I didn't get a chance to see everyone I wanted to see, unfortunately, but I suppose that gives me a reason to look forward to the next visit.

Reading? Well, over the holiday, mostly beach reading. Hopefully I'll step up to something more substantial before spring. Currently I'm reading A. Lee Martinez's In the Company of Ogres, as usual, I like my {fantasy|science fiction|horror|whatever genre} served up with a healthy side of humor.

Visual media: I finished watching Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda. It was fun, although the last two seasons were not as strong as the first three. Qualitywise, I'd place it somewhere between Babylon 5 and Firefly (the latter being my all-time favorite science fiction television series). Contentwise, it's in a league of its own: mythology cloaked in intergalactic space opera. I've also been seduced to the Dark Side: I've watched all three Jeff Dunham DVD performances and laughed hysterically at all three.

Well, that's all the news that fit to post. Hopefully more sooner rather than later...

Geeky Goodness

Slack 12.2 is out... time to recompile all of my extra software (package management? who needs package management when you have source code?!?)

And I recently discovered an ubuntu-derived distro I (sorta) like: crunchbang linux. Based on the openbox window manager, it is zippier than even xubuntu. If you like debian-type goodness, but want something a bit leaner (and less brown) than ubuntu, give crunchbang a whirl.

I think 2009 may be the year I try to avoid Windows outside of work. It probably won't be, since Windows handles video a lot more smoothly on my old hardware than Linux does, but, we'll see. It would be nice to stop being a hypocrite (I mean, pragmatist) and live out some ideals for a change...

I've got a bazillion documents in PDF that I need to read (who knew that there were so many free textbooks online?) Too bad my phone and pda screens are too small and my desktop too non-portable. A tablet PC would probably be perfect, but alas, too pricey. My clunky laptop will have to serve as my semi-portable PDF reader, unless any of you know of an ultra portable device for reading PDF files without needing new glasses (i.e. like the electron microscope my pda would require).

Hope all is well in your respective corners of Real Life. Two weeks until the Blessed Day (wait, shouldn't I start shopping some time soonish?)

Waking Up When the Buzz Is Gone

An article on the end of the current tech buzz (bloggers, this means us!)

About time, now can I please get back to narcissistic ramblings that even my own mother would find boring?