Saturday, July 24, 2010

A million lives as a silkworm


Bryan is a Canadian living in Japan who breeds silkworms to weave handmade silk and makes fine kimonos from them. In his blog, he writes: "I'll probably be born as a silkworm in my next million lives ( A rough estimate of the number of silkworms I will have raised and then killed in this life.) and for eternity face one of the several choice fates the silkworms have faced because of me...Today I used the hell-hot-roasting-roof to do the trick."

A sad story, reminding me of the price paid to bring things of beauty into this world, often by creatures with no knowledge of their sacrifice. It takes 5,000 silkworm lives to weave one kimono, a process which Bryan repeated seven times last year.

(I first read about Bryan in the Japan Times, but only because Mark Frauenfelder read it first.)



Saturday, June 13, 2009

Who is Yano Solong?


Now that these blog posts are appearing on my Twitter and (shudder) other social networks, some people may be asking themselves, Just who is this Yano Solong? I'd like to draw back the curtain and invite you inside my wunderkammer:

A rebel hero. A wanderer of the psyche. A self-aware fictional character, Yano Solong is the son of Han Solo and the grandson of a French anti-hero named Lone Sloane, created by a young author to serve as his avatar in an autobiographical space opera, set in an armada of corporate warships known as the Nova Consortium, on the anarchic fringes of which Yano S. was the pilot of a small mailroom freighter. Along with his co-author, androidized clerk Douglas Reich, Yano conducted raids against the fleet of Fleet Commander Bill van Fleet and thwarted the flamboyant dealings of Darth Scarf, Sith lord and relentless windbag. After rescuing Reich from the clutches of the supercomputer Nova1 Sonomi, Yano and Douglas escaped to the desert resort city of Safern on the planet Shenker 4, where they lost track of each other. It was some time before the young Yano, finding himself living in the Imperial Capital, reforged an old bond with the illustrious Dr. Lance Cardigan, elective prosthetics expert, and the two set to work building an engine of knowledge and discovery known as the Science Patrol.

It was during this time that Yano increasingly became this author's online pseudonym for all explorations of science fact and fiction, the building of new realities, and the study of ancient and dying arts. Now working as a freelance reality builder, learning the trade of harnessing lightning, Yano continues to tinker in his workshop on the structure of time and space itself.

By the way, most of the original stories of Yano Solong and Douglas Reich have been lost, but the legends remain, and may be set down on paper again sometime in the future. Continue to follow his adventures through all three venues:

Science Patrol

The Voyages of Yano Solong

Yano Solong's Twitter Feed


So long,
Yano

How Realities Are Created

"What is Reality?" -Philip K. Dick



It's a common idea in video-game theory that we are seeing the birth of an entirely new art-form, something that has never been seen before, and that many people will soon go flying off into the future of virtual worlds. It's an even commoner idea in antique ways of thinking that this is a horrible proposition and we should destroy the machines before they destroy us.

the truth is neither as dramatic or as mundane as all that. actually, i believe video games are the future in a field of study that's older than history: the quest to mediate reality.

Neurologically, all our knowledge of the world around us is mediated--transformed by our sensory apparatus into something the brain can process. this interface of your senses with your brain is the original set of virtual-reality goggles, a fully immersive interface that displays data to you that most of us usually assume to be "reality." It is, in fact, mediated reality, which is very different. it is, to put it bluntly, a bubble, constructed around the Self, through which nothing can pass before being transformed so our brain can digest it. It is a tiny world that only exists for one person, and these worlds can vary infinitely.

So, right from the start, we understand that all reality is constructed, and that we use a meat machine to interact with the squishy stuff, and that different worlds exist, different head-spaces created by this tendency of our mind to create a world around us. Each brain inside his own environment, whether it's a jungle, a hovel, or a grand central station of ideas. The point is not that each of us has our own---we all have hundreds. Thousands. (Try to have even more.)

So the idea of creating our own realities that exist independent of the four-dimensional universe, that exist alongside our own, in thoughts, dreams, stories, plays, music, movies, or lines of code, well, that's something our people have been working on since the very beginning. the cave paintings at Lascaux were the original Disneyland ride, the first movie. The Philip K. Dick head is one of the most advanced. These arts are called media because they insert another layer of translation onto the world, interpret reality and tell their own story. The ancient jewish mystics would descend into a cave whose walls gave off a vapor that delivered psychedelic revelations of the One True God. They emerged and wrote the Scriptures which are still studied today as glimmerings of "unmediated truth"--while the medium actually exists right underneath the ground. This is what books are--a translation of a previously experienced mental state, which may or may not create another instance of the author's thought, or a new shard of his thought which has a completely different effect on someone else.

in any case, mediation is our first tool, the equivalent of our first joystick or NES controller, movie projector and personal musical singing theater, the thing we grab to make sense of and take part in the world. Making video games is not only natural, it's necessary to move forward the Human Experiment, the quest to interact with all existence in a way that's meaningful and pleasurable for all parties.

and this idea of strapping goggles on your head and using a wired-up glove or a Wii-mote to grab things and move ideas around inside your headspace, well, to me it's the natural extension of what we've done so far. I will become a cyborg, because we have always been cyborgs. Weld the keyboard finger- and wrist-bones into my hands, and the analog rotary servocontrollers into my thumb joints, and make me whole.

In future explorations of CREATING REALITIES, I'll delve further into old and new realities I have loved, and look at how all kinds of different realities can talk with each other.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Creating Realities


I'm trying to bring together three or four thoughts at once here, so let's just say this is a light jaunt through the nature of reality as a growing accretion of simulacra, and an attempt to find the true meaning behind mediated reality. I learned in philsophy that there is no unmediated reality, and so the question I would like to ask you is, who or what is mediating the particular reality you find yourself in?

I sent out an email link to some friends this week, in which the author asserts that President Obama has stopped using the word "we" in his speeches and has begun to use the word "I" to begin sentences, assert his will, and claim dominion of various parts of the govenrment apparatus. Not to make too much of a fuss about an email, or besmirch my rogues' gallery, but the response was briefly "meh..." The point I was trying to make was not, Oh dear, look at the language on this guy, but that language shapes our reality, and even the substitution of a single-syllable word can serve as the fulcrum upon which our world turns. Furthermore, there is every reason to analyze and attempt to triangulate the purpose of everything Obama says, because as with any political figure, his words and actions have a very unique set of motivations that bear looking at. Reality is not as it appears, but it is changing in very specific ways, and only by observing the changes can we attempt to decode what is actually happening beneath our perception of things.

This week I am reading Halting State, a novel by Charles Stross, in which the world has become hooked into the ubiquitous Internet, served on high-res displays inside eyeglasses and mediated by phones, which in 2017 are the primary components of worldwide distributed networks. Much of the populace are engaged in several layers of augmnented reality at any given time, including massively persistent worlds thast exist in parallel with our own. One of the three protagonists enters a gaming convention and instantiates all his realities at once, superimposed on each other, and views goblins conversing with spacemen and secret agents dickering with Cthulan horrors. In this reality, the banks which control in-game possessions and harness liquidity are managed by real-life financial concerns, and a heist of in-game loot constitutes a very serious threat of economic stability. Clearly, this world is only a few steps beyond our own in terms of its commitment to artifical worlds, and we are rapidly heading in that direction. Another protagonist, a police detective, lives with her glasses projecting CopSpace on top of her daily world: floating beacons, indications of crimes in progress, threat analysis, and constant communication between members of the force. These are realities that are being constructed even now, as Great Britain last year claimed to have created the world's first technological panopticon. (I am still looking for a link on this story.)

The next thing that piqued my interest came just an hour ago, in the form of an essay I've been looking for for some time. Titled How to Build a Universe That Doesn't Fall Apart Two Days Later, by Philip K. Dick, he begins by talking about the craft of writing but then widens his scope to the creation of the universe by God, whose mind may be synonymous with the universe itself. He reaches this territory by telling the story of writing "Flow My Tears the Policeman Said," which was recounted by Richard Linklater in Waking Life. It's a fascinating story, and like Linklater I don't know if he reached the final, unmediated conclusion, but I think it's something everyone has to experience it themselves. It goes into the realms of synchronicity, and if you've ever spent any time thinking about 11:11, the numbers 42, 5, 23, or the shamanic journey, you'll recognize the gist of the idea at once. Everything is now. All this has happened before, and it will all happen again. All of us travel inside God's channel. As I said to Berman last week,
"Reality is thermoplastic."

While I was composing this article, the words "Quantum Jumping: Traveling Alternate Realities" came up in Google Ads. I'm also hoping that one of these guys has something to say on the subject. In the meantime, I'm always looking for suggestions on which world to visit next.

It will have been important to have this

This will be needed in the past.

some people i would like to meet




Of all the people listed as guests for Jon Favreau's Dinner for Five, there are very, very few that I wouldn't love to sit down and have a meal with. I have only seen the Stan Lee/Kevin Smith/Jason Lee/Mark Hamill/JJ Abrams episode, so I need to get cracking. Luckily, they are available on Netflix Watch Now and tv.com.

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

YANOSOLONG


Ytterbium Artificial Neohuman Optimized for Scientific Observation, Logical Obliteration and Nocturnal Gratification


Get Your Cyborg Name



I'm considering changing my name to Yano now....

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Pandora: Not Just Crappy Radio




I've been thinking about this unit since I saw it this morning; theoretically it will allow emulation of any videogame system and open-source homebrew of limitless types, will run Firefox 3 over a Bluetooth connection to your phone with data plan, and generally provide a PC in your pocket, in a basically DS-size case.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Liberty City Diaries--Day 12

My name is Niko Bellic. I moved to Librty City twelve days ago....In this city everyone works for money, and so i have spent my time here working...doing the work i have experience in, which includes fighting in close urban environments, driving a variety of quickly obtained vehicles and providing a variety of support services for various ad-hoc groups, small business operations who wish to avoid entanglements, and other people like myself...outcasts, immigrants, and yes, criminals.

in any case, this is not a work i always enjoy doing--it's grisly stuff, but when men are shooting at me, and they are standing in the way of my objective, i do what needs doing, and i reach the objective and i take the cash.

i must confess, though, that in all my years of work i have attained the pleasure of doing my job well. when i am in the heat of fire, there is nothing like setting your sights on your opponent and then popping him in the head once, ending him.

today i was told to kill a man who operates out of a high-rise housing project in east harlem. he is distributing drugs in the community, running prostitutes, you name it. i don't care. he is the target. the highrise is filled with young men with guns, all shooting at me; i search them out, one by one, and execute them all. Finally, as i creep up the stairs, i see him with his back turned to me, and i fire four or five rounds into his back, almost taking him down. I could have, if i had aimed carefully. In any case, i climbed up the last set of stairs after him. he hid behind a wall until i came close and then he came out,unarmed. he asked me not to kill him. fuck you, i thought, i almost died back there. i took aim at him, but i listened to him plea. i heard him tell me he would change, reform, i don't remember at all. something about a GED.

i stood there and i moved my gunsights to his forehead. fuck you, i thought, for making me come all the way up here. and i thought, here comes the pink mist, and then realized i had no desire to do this.

i sorta wanted to see if he would get his GED. but i also felt that i wouldn't see him again. it didn't matter. i had made the pink mist enough times back home--never mind that, i was still making it every day--but i had the choice not to shoot this guy, this dumbass prick. and also, in the words of Bunny Colvin (Brucie has downloaded all five seasons of the wire) "fuck the bosses." let's see what happens to the little guy.

as i walked away, i wasn't proud of myself, but i thought that at least i wouldn't have that memory to deal with. i have enough on my plate already. to start with, i am on the roof of an East Harlem housing project with cops closing in on me....

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

a major insight i just had is that writing yourself an email may be way more important than writing to some other dude. Writing to yourself is thought, it's imagination, the first pieces of language. maybe writing to yourself comes first and allows you to see what you need to write to others. in any case you have not even gotten to the good part. you should continue writing at very fast speeds until something actually intelligent comes out of it. probably also should learn how to really type too. let's start now. youve tried to learn to type before. one thing that stopped you was a desire to stop trying to tell all ten fingers what to do. and even now, you've improved your speed not by moving the hunt and peck any faster, its; just keeping your fingers centered and not allowing the board to make your hands move around. instead just instantly move to the kys you already kknow are there. and another ting thats hard to stop doing is going back and backspacing everything eleting everything youve done. dont worry about deleting now, you should lay your beuush in broad strokes. and even then, learn to re-think your editing style if you want. cut and paste. you dont have to delete if you want to just cut and paste down the page. whatever overcomes your blocks, but you are old enough by now to overcome them, there's no reason to be afraid anymore because any day could be last. i was so lclose to typeing ":your life could be half over" but the fact is these could be your last moments. makes your mind curcle just thinking about it. but there it is : fear of death.

the best creations can be as mistake. like the word "curcle." yes my mind is doing that, circling and curdling and curling in on itself. that;s called being a reality architect. it's all about the little dirifit off thrift off pieces of your frantic sbriccling. that's what people will adore the most, you may see. in any case, the only thing you can do, is do it. the definition of bloggingL you bring it to the page.

Friday, December 16, 2005

Happiness is a Hangover

The company christmas party was last night. Suffice it to say that the events of that night, the names of the people involved, the performances we allegedly witnessed, and the location where we may have held it are all deep-cover classified, Code Level Tangerine. However, let me assure both of my readers that I can probably divulge this information in person, as long as you submit to thirteen hours of debriefing in a closed decompression chamber while trained operatives remove the relevant areas of your brain stem with a grapefruit spoon.

In any case, the anguish within my soul, the harrowing search for Advil at 4 am, the cottonmouth, these are all well-documented, the lingering traces of a vaguely-remembered good time that was allegedly had by all.

In other news, the threatened strike of subway workers resulting in the complete shutdown of metropolitan NY has been postponed. If you have been following this issue in your local newspapers (who am I kidding), you will know that originally, the strike was scheduled to start at midnight last night, forcing 10 million New Yorkers to find alternate ways to get to work. Instead, there has been a temporary ceasefire, and union authorities now say they will slowly shut down all service beginning tonight and lock down all train lines until Tuesday. According to Alicia, this is "sneaky but brilliant," shutting down the entire city on the last big shopping weekend before Christmas. According to me, the fucking MTA can die, die, die.

In the meantime, please enjoy these complimentary links.

The Zen of Iraq - fafblog! Zen! mock bush!
musicmap - I haven't fully explored the possibilities here, but I like what I'm seeing. Like six degrees of separation in the music world with a killer interface.
Cute Overload - just what it says.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

just a quick thought before bed

record labels have an interesting way of pitching their DRM schemes: they act as though what they're doing is natural, that protection of music through copyright is a service to the universe. in reality, it is the record labels that are usurpers in this environment, because music was always shared, through all cultures. the boundary between musician and fan was less mediated by agents and PR and merch. these things--representation--cropped up with the same frequency as lawyers, accountants, and other pencil-pushers. shelved in neat Modern architecture, they pursued a regimen of ownership. but their dominance was always only partial; bootleg recorders, mixtape artists, and legions of fans proved them wrong. Endlessly strumming "Stairway to Heaven," they weren't "Stealing" the music, any more than the Grinch could actually steal Christmas. and for the same reason, the labels can't ruin it for us today; collaboration and innovation is stronger than their lawyering and book-learning. sharing is actually the future happening now. interesting thoughts on this subject here (click the link "Eight Ideas that will revolutionize the century.")

it;s my city

Just look at the titles of these books. I would like to own the whole set, but that would probably require a lifetime of Indiana-Jones-like achievements--if not George-Soros-like ones. Good thing they're available to check out at the NY Research Library. Now I just have to apply for a special research library card.

    by Charles Bucke (1781-1846):

  • Ruins of ancient cities: With general and particular accounts of their rise, fall, and present condition

  • On the life, writings, and genius of Akenside: With some account of his friends

  • On the beauties, harmonies, and sublimities of nature: With occasional remarks on the laws, customs, manners, and opinions of various nations : in four volumes

  • The Italians;: Or the fatal accusation; a tragedy. With a preface; containing the correspondence of the author with the committee of Drury Land Theatre, P. Moore, and Mr. Kean

  • Amusements in retirement, or, The influence of science, literature, and the liberal arts, on the manners and happiness of private life

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

I was thinking about this last night: the number one need in the virtual marketplace at this point is a fail-safe method of identity protection and verification. A company that can provide the user with an electronic ID verification system, failsafe and redundant, will control the marketplace, much as PayPal does, through providing an intuitive and reliable system.

Surprisingly, the federal government seems to agree with me: they have required that banks develop "two-factor" security systems by Q4 2006. The system banks use now is one-factor: to access your account, simply enter your self-created password or PIN. Two-factor requires independent verification through a redundant system. The most reliable ideas are biometrics and constantly refreshing passwords like those provided by a VPN SecureID. Of the two, I think biometrics should eventually become the verification of choice, but obviously we're a ways out from seeing that happen--technology like fingerprint readers or retina scanners would have to become standard equipment on any computer used to access a bank account. Nevertheless I suppose even this method could be hacked.
"We're seeing a bit of an arms race to upgrade networks."

Max Weise on the coming 4G maelstrom

Monday, October 17, 2005

Selections from the New Yorker this week



the recombinant city. noncoded DNA, reservoirs of language tissue, left turned on or off like lightswitches in corridors of genes.

a game plan. a unifed vision of the future as represented by liberal ideals. a 'contract with america' of sorts.

a deprivatory chamber, hypoxico, which creates walking-in-the-clouds syndrome, the feeling of light-headedness usually reserved for the lofty.

Peter Viereck, the founder of modern conservatism (piece not available online), a man who felt that its strength lay in being almost identical to American liberalism.

unexpressed desires, the secret code lay within, unexpectedly laid bare: it was there all along. the hidden potential of reality to recreate itself. the motions of growth, a leaf from a tree, ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny.

Monday, October 03, 2005

it's difficult to concentrate on one project sometimes

So...just ignore anything you may see before this entry. It's all over two years old at this point. You can look at my Livejournal if you want to see anything I've written since then. Until now. Up to a few months ago, LJ was my home, but since then I've ventured outside that enclave, seen a lot of new stuff like real RSS and Atom and Ajax and APIs. Stuff I never thought about before. Now I try to read Slashdot and kottke and I furrow my brow and I look like a big sweetie. I don't really know what's being discussed a lot of the time--I'm a stranger in a strange land. But I find that it's really not enough just to be into books and fantasy and film and adventure. There are plenty of other factors to take into consideration, like true love and friends and science, discernment, sexual experiementation, bifurcation and more. Part of that is my experience with psychedelics, and the city, and life. But more importantly, this growth is a part of me, innate characteristics expressed, a few lines of the program designed to innovate, explore, and discover something new and unexpected, a vibrant juxtaposition, a creature of joy and actual transcendence. So part of that is this transformation into the Other, a digital transformation. To Be Continued.

Wednesday, August 06, 2003

This is a pretty cool progressive/conspiracy theorism site.

stopsleeping

Wednesday, July 16, 2003

Update: The Cost Of War in Iraq


A grenade attack killed a U.S. soldier in Iraq Wednesday, bringing the total combat deaths to 147, equaling the total in the 1991 Gulf War.

The Pentagon said military expenses for the war and its aftermath have cost the United States $48 billion to date, with a monthly price tag over the next couple of months estimated at more than $3.9 billion.

The Big Board


July 15, 2003
Casualties: 147
Cost: $48,000,000,000

Goals Accomplished



Saddam Hussein's Status: Unknown
WMD Locations: Unknown
Iraqi Independence: Unknown
Estimated Time of American Departure: Fucking Unknown