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I've been thinking about this, but how my version is

Whenever I'm about to procrastinate on tackling something I think "Is putting off the thing likely to make the problem it addresses better or likely to make it worse?" And if putting it off would not make it better, I go do that thing now.

Oh, ideological purity tests for Florida universities, cool, cool, hardly fascist at all. Melissa and I joined Ariana on a trip to check out Maudslay State Park...

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RIP Louis Armstrong who died 50 years ago today! Here's his final recording "April in Paris" Yesterday we joined Melissa's old crew who were camping near at Burlingame State Park. We joined them for a day of socially distanced lake fun, with the highlight being this giant platform floaty raft thing they brilliantly bought last year...

I dared to take advantage of my phone's promise of great water resistance - and got some beautiful shots of Watchaug Pond's aquatic plant life...

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The conflicting info from doctors has been exhausting-

First they said "masks don't help"

Then it became "we learned more and masks do help"

Then it was "yup, we still think masks help"

Then "continue wearing masks"

Now "for the love of god, wear a mask"

Which is it?!

Quotes from Sally Rooney's "Normal People":

He shrugged. Idly he wandered over to the bed and sat down. She was sitting cross-legged, holding her ankles. They sat there in silence for a few moments. Then he got onto the bed with her. He touched her leg and she lay back against the pillow. Boldly she asked if he was going to kiss her again. He said: What do you think? This struck her as a highly cryptic and sophisticated thing to say. Anyway he did start to kiss her.

Her breath sounded ragged then. He pulled her hips back against his body and then released her slightly. She made a noise like she was choking. He did it again and she told him she was going to come. That’s good, he said. He said this like nothing could be more ordinary to him. His decision to drive to Marianne’s house that afternoon suddenly seemed very correct and intelligent, maybe the only intelligent thing he had ever done in his life.

He told Marianne once that he'd been writing stories, and now she keeps asking to read them. If they're as good as your emails they must be superb, she wrote. That was a nice thing to read, though he responded honestly: They're not as good as my emails.

By now the unspoken consensus is that Helen and Marianne don’t like each other very much. They’re different people. Connell thinks the aspects of himself that are most compatible with Helen are his best aspects: his loyalty, his basically practical outlook, his desire to be thought of as a good guy.

Not for the first time Marianne thinks cruelty does not only hurt the victim, but the perpetrator also, and maybe more deeply and more permanently. You learn nothing very profound about yourself simply by being bullied; but by bullying someone else you learn something you can never forget.

A terrific fast read, and it's easy to place bits of one's own weird high school and college experiences of on-again, off-again romance into it - I certainly have had the feeling that the email I was writing to try and woo was better than any of the stuff I made for my fiction or poetry class, and I recognize that the desire to be seen as a good guy is a big driver in my life. (For me it's a sign that I am most likely a good guy, objectively, since I trust people's opinions.)

The book was recommended by kottke who did a better job of with excerpts from it than I have here.

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Bummed MAD magazine is becoming a zombie. I've fallen off the bandwagon, but when I buy the occasional issue I appreciate the work they seemed to be doing with indie comic strips.

MAD introduced a lot of kids to a lot of pop-culture, and had a terrific mistrust of authority stance.

Never woulda thought the Cracked brand would have become more vibrant (though I think the connection to the old faux-MAD print version was tenuous.)

"The first rule of child psychology is that it applies throughout all of life."

I try to think of the right model to understand the part of me that procrastinates, seemingly intimidated by relatively innocuous tasks , and the part of me that makes it tough to consistently control my eating. Jonathan Haidt "The Elephant (and the Rider)" is one metaphor that covers it. But also it feels like an inner child, or maybe a hungry dog - a dog that knows what it wants and can be extremely clever about getting its own way,

I think the other thing to remember is whatever it is, it's a system that's a bit deaf-blind (ala Helen Keller) possibly not enjoying the same rich sensory input that our rational selves have, nor the framework of language to help make choices about it, but rather is responding to the bodies response to its immediate environment. So you have to be so careful about how you train it! Run away from a challenge, and this system "learns" that it's a challenge worth running from - super scary (however minor it 'actually' is) and so lets crank up fight-or-flight. Or food is delicious, and the future unknowable, so lets frickin' eat...

That's some of what the quote is about - in practice, gimmicks we use for kids might work all thorough our lives.

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Expounding on this topic for a Letter for Future Cora:

Some people use the "Elephant and the Rider" metaphor - the Elephant being our emotional self that provides all the energy, and honestly, may be where all the capacity for pleasure and enjoyment is, vs. our intellectual/rationale/linguistic "Rider" that THINKS it's running the show, because it's SO good at making explanations for what the Elephant decided to do, but it's not, it's usually just holding on for dear life, albeit with some capacity to urge and coax the elephant to where it knows the two should go.

Anyway, it's tough to train this elephant, and like a kid it's prone to picking up cues and the "wrong" lesson. Like, if there's a minor task at school or work or whatever, and it seems a little scary - you're worried you might not do a good job (and if you have "fixed mindset" like I do - the feeling that intelligence and other traits are something you have via genetics or whatever, not something you can grow - not doing a good job might be pointing you're a fake! A Phony! A fraud!) and you back away from the task, go do something else for a bit... well your elephant learns "man, that's a scary thing worth running from, I better get all systems ready to run next time". (An elephant's fabled feeling about mice comes to mind...) And lately I've been thinking how the elephant might not be seeing the world through my eyes, or having the framework of language to build its "thoughts" around. So, like, it doesn't see the delicious snack available at work, but it sees the rest of my body and my rational mind noticing the delicious snack at work, and accordingly launches a campaign to get me to eat it...

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Want to hear a hot take?

Despite what modern core nihilism will tell you, the accidental nature and inherent meaninglessness of life as a biological phenomenon does not mean that our efforts are pointless but instead allows us all to determine what we personally desire out of life. It means we are free to pursue what our hearts desire, and so enables each of us to find our own unique meaning.

Also love is real.

And the majority of people in the world are inherently good-natured.

Why did the chicken cross the road?

It had been crossing so long it could not remember. As it stopped in the middle to look back, a car sped by, spinning it around. Disoriented, the chicken realized it could no longer tell which way it was going. It stands there still.

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Blender of Love

This relates to a theory I have, which is that the archetypal Western Male Hero is James Bond, to the degree that people (Mainly straight white men) start to see every Western Male Hero as James Bond.

Which is to say an aggressively masculine, quip-spitting, hyper violent womanizer. The ultimate Male Power Fantasy. A new supermodel love interest (or two) every film, a gun in his hand, and no consequences for his actions.

Consider:

Captain Kirk: Painted as a headstrong idiot who spends all his time banging green skinned alien queens. In reality, a pretty firmly Feminist character.

Han Solo: Pictured as a suave too-cool-for-school scoundrel. Actually kind of a mess with a ship that's falling apart. He constantly has people after him, not because he's some sort of superscoundrel that makes powerful enemies, but because he makes deals with dangerous people, and then fails to live up to his end of the bargain. From what I recall, it's not even that he double-crosses them or anything, he just screws up.

Mad Max: To quote that one hilariously stupid review that helped make the movie so popular, "In the post-apocalyptic future, it's going to be MEN LIKE MAX THAT ARE IN CHARGE!" Max just wants to drive his car around the desert and be sad. He doesn't want any of this.

It's like, the Male Power Fantasy (as exemplified by James Bond) is so strong that we feel a need to cast everybody we can in that same mold.

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And here it comes again, that brittle frontier spirit, that lone lean guy in our heads, with a gun and a fear of encroachment. But he's picked up a few tricks along the way, has learned to come at us in a form we know and have forgotten to be suspicious of, from TV: famous, likably cranky, a fan of winning by any means necessary, exploiting our recent dullness and our aversion to calling stupidity stupidity, lest we seem too precious.

The tie-in with anti-"Political Correctness" is telling.

Here's the un-PC truth, Trump fans: he's kind of a con artist, and you've been conned. There's no shame in being conned unless you refuse to admit you are - this country has its problems, but none so bad that Trump is a good answer.

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Minor first-world-problem ‪#‎nerdrage‬ news: looks like last month, Samsung Smart TVs and Skype parted ways. Not that we used it much, but it was amusing to give the living room something feeling like the main screen on the Enterprise on Christmas Day.

Trying to figure out if there's ANY use for this camera now - and it was expensive-ish custom hardware, of course, heaven forfend they have let use a cheap usb webcam.

All-in-One Smart TVs always felt like kind of a poor idea to me - violating the old unix "do one job, do it well" principle, and tying in the simple utility of a nice big screen with wonky UIs and vendor lock-in. This Max and Sarah in the kayaks made me laugh way more than it should have, especially since I was going kayaking the next day after I found it, and so was tempting murphy and his law...

followup:Max + Sarah Q+A (2019 UPDATE sadly that link no longer works but here's a youtube backup of the original Observing my own behavior, I think there's going to be a trend where people will use multitasking to avoid pre-video video ads. Unskippable 30 Second Sears Ad? Ok, I'm gonna go do something else, then hop back in a bit. (Of course they still have my ear, and also that might lead to an escalation where videos autopause when they lose the focus.)

I know some folk use AdBlock, but I think that does too much. I enjoy a lot of content for free, and don't mind being some part of what keeps that going -- it's a question of where the line should be drawn, and how. This was the view from David's place last night near sunset. That is actually an old ruined castle there in the sunlight. Later the panorama of the lake was decorated with dozens of small lakeside firework displays in the distance, over the course of an hour or so. An intriguing night!


click for fullsize

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http://gigaom.com/2012/07/05/patent-troll-stalks-travel-site-hipmunk/ Software patents are just food for trolls. End them.
--James Brown selling Miso Noodles... Man, I wish I was famous enough to make commercials for Japan.

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1776: The USA is born. It was over 200 years before it announced the birth of USB.

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In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

Amber and I had a housewarming bbq today... we had a bit of sidewalk chalk on the driveway, this was by Miller: Kate did the top and middle part, Amber did the bottom, not sure of the middle...
So finally, notes to my future self should I do this again:

• If you're wavering about the hoody (being too warm at first, but useful if an evening chill sets in) wear it now, unless the day is truly sweltering.
• It's a bit over 4 1/2 miles each way. So get paddlin'!
• You do need food, but not that much food...
• The strategy of not drinking too much so as to avoid emergency port-a-lot trips to shore is a good one.
• Yes the anchor is super handy. Ideally with about 100 feet of line but a bit less will do.
• Anchors should ALWAYS be tied to the bow, not the stern, and if you're clever, look how the big boats are pulling from their anchor to figure out which way you'll be facing. HOWEVER - if you are facing directly into the fireworks, you are at risk for having a lot of smoke and ash blown in your face.

That was a nice time.

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http://kirk.is/photos/misc/2009july4/ - full set of photos from the 4th Kayaking!

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I always live by the motto don't do anything you'll have to explain to the paramedics.

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http://c1.livejournal.com/216148.html - C1's coverage of the event So I was kayaking yesterday, and like a complete genius let my phone and palm get all wet, and both are at least temporarily out of commission. (note for next time: plastic baggy, genius) So for the moment, online communication is probably going to be the best way to get my attention.

So last year we benefited from some kind people who thought to bring anchor and food and a little wine and were willing to share, and this year I was able to "pay it forward", at least anchor-wise, with Ruby and Benjamin who were canoing but would otherwise be adrift for the fireworks. (Being able to kick back with an anchor is so much nicer than having to constantly adjust.) They also had a bottle of champagne to share, so it was a very agreeable time all around.

There was a buoy that marked the edge you could go to, but then about 4 or 5 canoe crews started using that to anchor, and were slowly dragging it to the middle of the harbor... kind of funny to watch the slow-motion progression.

Also, COPS on JETSKIS!, with lights and everything, were new to me.

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Fireworks of the Moment

--Kayaks = best seat in the house!

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Exchange of the Moment

"So tonight I'm going to be biking, which is kind of a workout for legs, and tomorrow I'm going kayaking, which is arms..."
"Dude, you're going to be buff!"
"I'm going to be so 'buff' I should be slaying vampires!
...you know, that might not be the imagery I was trying to project."

Yesterday, on a whim, Ksenia and I decided to celebrate the fourth by renting a kayak and paddling down to see the Boston fireworks.

I learned a few things.

• I'm "ok" at paddling if you define it by being able to make a kayak go forward, and roughly steer, but absolutely terrible if the definition of ok includes not getting a few gallons of water in the damn kayak. Stuff in the bottom of the kayak was drenched. Also, close quarters manuevering was like learning parallel parking all over again.
• I prefer kayaks over canoes, because they seem less... campy, in both a figurative and literal sense. Plus the oar seems a bit more fiddley when you switch sides.
• Muchies might have been a good thing to bring along...I didn't know what kind of room there'd be for one.
• But maybe not beverages, because of the annoyance of having to locate a restroom. This we learned from experience.
• Consider investing in a small anchor if you want to park your kayak...having to constantly adjust one's position while waiting for and viewing fireworks gets old after a while. Ksenia and I were quite fortunate, we made friends with a fellow kayaker named Rochelle, who was teaming up with 4 folks in a canoe... and they had an anchor! We lashed our watercraft together, Rochelle even passed around some munchkin bottles of Pinot Noir, and in general we had a grand old time.
• It's a little disconcerting when you hear the concert from speakers behind you before the sound from the stage speakers has carried over the water.
• It's a long way from the Charles River Canoe & Kayak (a couple of miles maybe? I was trying to figure it out) to where they have the fireworks. And, of course, even longer back.

Anyway, a few images:

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Nostalgia of the Moment
Speaking of Dylan and Sarah (as EB was in the sidebar) I dug up pictures from July 26, 1998 when I went kayaking on the Charles with them and their friend Mandy.
Two points: I think it is a even more fun to have a definite goal such as as "seeing fireworks" than just "paddling around for a bit", and man... in 1998 I had a craptacular digital camera. That last picture of Sarah was ok though.

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Link of the Moment
Fun Facts about Springfield's Fireworks. It was my first clue about the names for the various types, which the wikipedia page now covers in greater detail, from Peonies to Cakes and including my favorites, Salutes... just a big sound and a big noise. (Heh, that first link was probably in my backlog since before I knew much about wikipedia.)

Excerpts from "An American Childhood"

[After a huge childhood run, a scientific test just to make SURE that people couldn't fly by running and flapping their arms] "What could touch me now? For what were the people on Penn avenue to me, or what was I to myself, really, but a witness to any boldness I could muster, or any cowardice if it came to that, any giving up on heaven for the sake of diginity on earth? I had not seen a great deal accomplished in the name of dignity, ever."

"Do you advocate the overthrow of the United States government by force or violence?"
"...Force."

Before I had watched [the amoeba, now caught by microscope] at all, I ran upstairs. My parents were still at table, drinking coffee. They, too, could see the famous amoeba. I told them, bursting, that he was all set up, that they should hurry before his water dried. It was the chance of the lifetime.

Father had stretched out his long legs and was tilting back in his chair. Mother sat with her knees crossed, in blue snacks, smoking a Chesterfield. The dessert dishes were still on the table. My sisters were nowhere in evidence. It was a warm evening; the big dining-room windows gave onto blooming rhododendrons.

Mother regarded me warmly. She gave me to understand that she was glad I had found what I had been loking for, but that she and Father were happy to sit with their coffee, and would not be coming down.

She did not say, but I understood at once, that they had their pursuits (coffee?) and I had mine. She did not say, but I began to understand then, that you do what you do out of your private passion for the thing itself.

I guess this is how I feel about relationships in general...I mean, I also crave a bit of admiration, and for recognition that "hey, that IS cool..." but besides that, pursuits are personal and don't always need to be shared to a non-trivial extent.

• Raymond Kurzweil has written some good books and he's also been productive in areas of CyberArt.
• North Korean anti-USA progagand:FUCKING USA. Interesting that's the word in English...don't they have their own swears?

• The old repeat themselves and the young have nothing to say. The boredom is mutual.

• Tokyo on One Cliché a Day: Wacky Food, Manga, Inane Protocol, Capsule Hotels, and Earthquakes...I love Slate so much. I wonder if they actually are in the black, or if they're just a big Microsoft charity case.

• There is no remedy for sex but more sex.

• --The Muybridge Motion Studies are amazing . His horse studies proved things about how they gallop.

So, I ended up getting into the fourth a bit more; I (Mo wasn't up for it) walked down to Waltham's own fireworks display. I hadn't heard anything about it, but I somehow got to Watertown's "search Mass Gov" form, looked for fireworks, got this pdf of Professional Supervised Fireworks Display in MA (which, oddly, lists Waltham's display at 1:00 PM, not 10 PM) and that gave me enough information to Google up a community newspaper article about it.) They had a mini-mini-fair going on, 4 or so kiddie rides, some sideshow games, food stands, and everyone sat in a local school's football field, with the fireworks at one end. Not a bad display.

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Shopping List of the Moment

Mo forgot her shopping list, and it was easier to scan it and post it than to read it to her over the phone. So... this is pretty much every single thing that she and I will be eating this week...

Argh, programming the Atari is tough, though some parts are getting easier...I didn't make as much progress as I had hoped for yesterday.

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Quote of the Moment

Cold are the hands of time that creep along relentlessly, destroying slowly but without pity that which yesterday was young. Alone our memories resist this disintegration and grow more lovely with the passing years. Heh! That's hard to say with false teeth!

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Backlog of the Moment
I've had a link about an interview with Scot Adams (the guy who wrote old "text adventures", not the Dilbert guy) in my back log for a long time...the site it's from has a large collection of articles about IF, or "Interactive Fiction". For an interesting, if atypical, example of the form, see my loveblender review of "The Space Under the Window". The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart

How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say,
God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words
get it wrong. We say bread and it means according
to which nation. French has no word for home,
and we have no word for strict pleasure. A people
in northern India is dying out because their ancient
tongue has no words for endearment. I dream of lost
vocabularies that might express some of what
we no longer can. Maybe the Etruscan texts would
finally explain why the couples on their tombs
are smiling. And maybe not. When the thousands
of mysterious Sumerian tablets were translated,
they seemed to be business records. But what if they
are poems or psalms? My joy is the same as twelve
Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light.
Lord, thou art slabs of salt and ingots of copper,
as grand as ripe barley lithe under the wind's labor.
Her breasts are six white oxen loaded with bolts
of long-fibered Egyptian cotton. My love is a hundred
pitchers of honey. Shiploads of thuya are what
my body wants to say to your body. Giraffes are this
desire in the dark. Perhaps the spiral Minoan script
is not a language but a map. What we feel most has
no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses and birds.