Small Streams

The More Memes Change . . .

I'm enjoying John Markoff's book What the Dormouse Said and having wonderful mondo moments, such as when I open my browser to write about the personal computer revolution I get a prompt from a piece of software to update itself.

The invention of PCs was one of those "don't try this at home, kids," exercises. Mix together lots of Defense Department money, a bunch of nerds, inflated egos, LSD, Grateful Dead music, and electronic circuits, and these wonderful machines and wireless technologies is what you get. You can also see why a blue state lifestyle is something to warned against. Bill Gates' counter revolution may have calmed us down and got us to work on Excel and Minesweeper for a while, but the whole open source and scripts and content management for the rest of us is about to jiggle us to another level. Some telling snippets on fascinating people, such as Stewart Brand (More Stewart Brand!). Some disturbing parts, like when a group of 25 engineers eat LSD to have a product creation session. Not a whole lot of level three revelation, but enough level twos to create a bangup map of intersections between sociology and technology.

The End[less] of Summer

Just sitting here and trying to keep the spirit of vacation alive. Here are some of the pictures I took with some commentary.

Watch my slideshow.

The plant in question is seabeach sandwort, I think. Have a happy Summer (what's left of it).

Who's with Me?

Holy Convergence, Batman. I just found out the recommendations link on del.icio.us. Here are my art links. Check out the bottom right where it says recommendations.

Somehow del.icio.us matches up people who pick out sites similar to mine, or has some kind of algorithmic doohickey that gathers together those of like mind. Somehow we can begin peaking into the collective conscious of, and perhaps even unconscious of, the thousand or so people who use del.icio.us. It's kind of like having Carl Jung or Joseph Campbell whispering in your ear.

Returning from Ipswich Bay

Am now back in Pittsburgh.

Here I am in the kayak that I found ashore last year. I just plugged the hole in the stern with some duct tape, and the only water the kayak took on was the water from me paddling. I made it from the Lighthouse to Folly Point, about three miles. Consequently, I got too much sun. But it was worth it. Along the way, I started writing this poem:

Mortimer B., or The Rime of the Persnickety Mariner

Mortimer B. went out to sea in his Pamlico Kayak Shell.
For an afternoon’s leisure, Mr. B. sought the pleasure
Of paddling his boat for a spell.

The ocean was calm the weather was warm;
Mort he knew nothing of the oncoming storm
He also learned that he forgot his rudder,
and his boat had developed a crack
“I like to go boating,” he said with a shudder.
“But I also like to get back.”

The thunder was sounding, the rain it came pounding,
The flood found its way to the hull.
Three miles from land, with lightning at hand,
Said Mort, “At least it ain’t dull.”

Mortimer B. was never the kind to confront a problem sitting,
And standing for battle,
With only a paddle,
He told the sea, “It’s you should be quitting.”

He might have been saved but a forty-foot wave approached that Pamlico Shell
And Mortimer stood (Like a hardy fool would)
Shook his fist, and said, “Go to hell.”

In spite of his curse (You know the ocean’s heard worse),
The kayak went down to the briny,
And Mortimer thought,
Though his life had been bought,
“At least I got off my heiny.”

The kayak eventually went back to port,
But the ocean decided to keep our dear Mort.
He’s stayed in the ocean just bobbing and floating,
A reminder to others we can’t always be boating.

Kayakers come and go, but plastic you know,
Seems to last on this earth forever;
So to honor the man and his courageous last stand,
I’ve decided to do something clever.
I have named the shell after Mortimer B.
What once was his joy and his doom —
His legacy has become his namesake
And both are linked now in perpetuum.

So if it’s life you treasure, instead of true pleasure,
Stay off the Mortimer B.
But if you’re not too weak,
And it’s pleasure you seek,
And you love the swell and the tide.
Grab yourself a paddle,
Set out for the sea,
And join Morty and me for a ride.

Trying to Clear My Head

Have been watching the sunsets nearly every night here in Annisquam, and occasionally trying to set the sundial in the front yard.

I got the following tidbit from this site.

The diameter of the Sun as seen from the Earth is about 1/2 degree, so it moves by its own radius every minute.

The Podcasting Thingy

Have started podcasting tunes on Three Penny Opry. Sooner or later I'll figure out how to put a feed on the side of this blog with something Feedburner calls Buzzboost.

The View from Here

Haven't done too much lately. I'm getting the hang of GarageBand and podcasting, but also spending time at the beach.

The view at the beach is even better, and the color is less spotty.