January 2005 Archives
Reshelved Lessig's Free Culture today.
It was much more engaging than I was expecting. As someone going in knowing very little about the ways and mores of copyright law -- the book reeled me in. Lessig leads you slowly into the water -- allows you to splash around a bit in the history of copyright -- wades with you up to the modern era while always referring back to the history so that you always have it in your swimming trunks -- and presents several sound arguments along the way -- all building up to the Supreme Court case Eldred v. Ashcroft. At that point -- you're swimming in some pretty deep waters.
What one would expect to be a droll lesson in legality is tinctured with the bright, impassioned tales of an attempt to guide a corralled spirit into greener pastures. To open the doors of creativity. To free culture. Lessig's writing guides you along so subtly through the case history that in reading you don't realize the sympathies you've developed until the verdict is read and you realize what we've lost. You empathize when he speaks of his realization, devastation and circles of recalculation following the defeat.
When I reached the halfway point earlier this week I realized I would need to reorganize my aggregator feeds. I've been stifling Lessig's blog by keeping him contained in my political folder -- which has seen its popularity plummet since the election. The movement towards an improvement in copyright law is ongoing -- and after this reading -- has a reinvested follower.
The book, in its presentation of reforming current legislation, touches several times on instances that in one way or another seep into the bigger picture. Everything, to risk melodramatics, is in some manner or another attached to everything else.
(I've lost my initial point here -- as I just returned from the dentist's office with a mouthful of novocaine.)
Of particular interest to me was the point that in securing copyrights, publishers of trade journals or specialized writings are able to suspend the distribution of periodicals to libraries in favor of establishing databases that require a subscription to view. Much too expensive for the everyday joe to afford -- the wealth of knowledge that used to be available to all is now relegated to those fortunate enough to be able to afford it, or belong to an institution that can proxy it. A more dramatic picture was painted of those movies that have been under copyright since the late 1920's -- but have no commercial worth - so instead of being digitally preserved by archivists -- the film is slowly disintegrating into dust.
The reading touched upon several matters that I am sure I'll be delving into in the next two years as I attempt to become a custodian of culture. It opened my eyes just a little wider to the importance of the position and the merits of librarianship. Libraries are a foundation of true democracy. They are supposed to level the playing field with open and free access to information for all. (and cue a deep swelling of patriotic music, slowly fading out the lights)
Recommended: Free Culture.
Last night at the dinner table there was some concern over whether the required portion of cabbage needed for the recipe had been met.
Today, though the day still has many hours left in it -- I can safely assure you: the calculations were impeccable.
A couple of days ago I got hooked into a certain train of thought and now I can't seem to derail it. A slippery slope of negative attitudes. A harsh realism. Great moments of dubiety.
There are a great many possible turns available for the phrase: "The more you reach out the more..." -- but I think I'm beginning to side with the forgotten vet, John Evans -- who believes that "The more you reach out, the more they throw rocks and stones at you." Have a look around his sight er, oops... site. He has some interesting thoughts.
CNN.com - Johnny Carson, late-night TV legend, dead at 79 - Jan 23, 2005 This is made slightly more poignant due to the recent stories that Johnny had been slipping Letterman jokes for latenight...
-- NYT - retrospective --
-- The New York Times > The Last Monologue: Nostalgia and a Few Poltical Digs--
-- Quotes from Johnny Carson's final 'Tonight Show' from the Minneapolis-St. Paul StarTribune --
-- Technorati: Johnny Carson
---nice tribute here from ingridspangler---
-- C-Net: Net Mourns death of Johnny Carson --
-- Yahoo News Slideshow -- Photos of Johnny
The true king of latenight.
-- Wikipedia: Johnny Carson --
-- Johnny Carson on The Simpsons: Krusty Gets Kancelled [Simpson's Site] --
Yup. Snowdrifts up to the tippy top of the wheel well. You can't really tell how much is piled up on the side mirrors, but we're gettin' up there. Probably about a foot now...the drifts are obviously deeper in some areas...
Best of luck to the northeast -- this is the most snow I've seen in a long time...
Lots of it.
I'm still getting used to this Michigan winter thing.
Cabin fever perhaps?
Opening an account today - while left alone in the office I overheard a teller utter something between a whine and a statement:
"I just can't get motivated today."
Examining The War Diaries of Jean Paul Sartre or
The longest entry...EVER!
I picked this book off the shelf by happenstance as I meandered through the local library looking for an open computer to check the catalog for some other flight of fancy. This process is often my downfall and the main reason my books in queue box is often static. Casting a glance in a certain direction while at the library is leaving yourself open to the play of your imagination and desires. The presentation and freedom of information openly offered tends to leave me staggering out the front doors with books tucked in up under my nose that I will never get the chance to read without checking the renewal box at least twice. In the past few days, I realized that the hours of freedom slipping by seemed to be travelling down a siphon. The words of seestore, to read what I can now because once school begins there won't be any time, began to increase their font in my mind. Right about now they're SCREAMING out of sheer panic.
So there I was, attempting to read some seven or so books at the same time. I'd divvy out a chapter here and a chapter there on alternating nights. There never was a true system to the madness. The bookmarks seemed to be moving on their own, wedging themselves closer and closer to the back cover of each work. The majority of the books were LIS related, each shelling out their own take on the ins and outs of introducing the major aspects of Library and Information Science. But the Diaries transported me out of my bed, back in time and threw me into situations with my favorite philosopher. There we were, both a little miffed by the circumstances of war, both wondering about our own inadequacies -- and discovering that we share a healthy number of attributes.
While reading, I jotted in my own little black book.
Happy MLK2005 everybody.
I suppose having the day off helped in getting seestore in front of her computer -- where she made her announcement that I just couldn't contain -- and then followed that up with another announcement.
She's still learning about all that techie stuff -- and if she's interested in earnest - she could learn where I learned my beginnings -- Webmonkey, specifically - the html cheatsheet will get you on your feet quick.
Went to volunteer at the library today -- but apparently ILL took the day off. Left the library with Lessig's book and a few cds. I then proceeded to have my mane shorn.
Just installed this nifty little technorati tag plugin from George. You can see it working down by the category listing.
I figured since it's big enough news to make the headlines on CNN that I'd post an image of the fog that rolled into Michigan today. That first driveway up on the right ours.
The past few days it had been nice and below freezing. Snow accumulated and driving to class meant hitting occasional patches of back tire slippage and fishtailing and all kinds of fun stuff I didn't get to do in Georgia. Today the temperature shot up near 50 degrees -- and the humidity just went nuts. It was really eerie outside. Silent. Thick. When I took this walk I was very conscious of any car approaching --- the only noise, it seemed, for miles.
In a nod to Monsieur: While I was outside meandering about looking for that Scooby-Doo owl or some other scary sight that matched up with my surroundings -- I kept reminding myself:
- Thank God torture is legal again.
- Yes, we are beautiful people. And yes, I do rock on the marimba.
Why aren't more of my friends internet geeks?no...no, that's not what I meant...Why don't more of my friends use the internet to communicate with me more often, as opposed to that ancient contraption the phone every now and again?still wrong- Why can't I communicate with my friends more often in brief but meaningful conversations using the internet rather than an occasional phone call once every so often that usually turns into an exhausting and expensive ride through items culled at random and tends to leave out matters of importance that only surface after the dial tone has manifested?
yes...somewhat closer to what I had intended. I've actually used
threefour different methods to communicate with my loved ones just today: mail, e-mail, instant message, telephone. I guess what I'm asking is -- what am I doing wrong here that I'm not getting word from California, Arizona, Charleston, Colorado, etc.? Hmmm. More thinking yet to do ....and lastly: - Hey baby, what's your XML-Schema?It may not make sense anywhichway -- but I drove home through the ice and snow with it bouncing around my head.
That was Quick Thoughts for Tuesday, January 11th, with your host: Kevin Yezbick. Now back to everyone's favorite Star Hustler, Jack Horkheimer.
Using the St. Andrew's Face Morpher
[via electrolicious' flickr]
Normally this would go on the links page, but this is just too rich...
Also spotted on waxy. I've been unable to save the images to separate pages because, I suspect, so many people are busy freaking themselves out that the face morpher server is getting a workout....I had to use my screen capture utility.
I'm still getting over that bug -- hence the lack. Over the past few days -- I do believe I actually felt like the guy in that picture.
I was thinking about collecting information on being sick on your birthday or sick on my birthday, or the existential being sick on my birthday or being sick on your birthday...-- but there is just so much out there - that I really didn't want to waste my birthday doing it...
It was rather easy to find this poem.
I am old.
I am sick.
I will now attempt to cheer myself up by listening to myself being an ass.
[happybirthday.mp3] (right click, save target as)
I feel dirty. guilty. poor.
Feelings bottled up and given chance to release after many months. The want to
express turned into a strange waltz of confusion.
Sorry for that. It seemed we were still miles apart. So many things left unsaid. So little time in all that counting down.
Like watching the fragile flower, that when touched, all the petals surround to protect...
But they were satellite petals -- disconnected -- working of their own volition.
It didn't seem right to find you shrouded. It was frustrating to say the least.
Now I'll be waiting again. Back to the bottle factory. That ethereal bond must once more be tested. It slows my return. It will hold fast as the tires drive over the blacktop, through the puddles, into the slush. Even when set into park and the bags are unpacked.
I've resigned myself to solitude. It will be my committed partner for two years. Two years is a long time for a fire to burn -- but this spark was ignited nearly that long ago, and has maintained. There was a space between then -- and many obstacles have since fallen to those flames. Circumstances seem to raise again whatever had been razed before - but the continued burning of these embers flash out sparks of hope. In my solitude I'll be left to wonder whether the wavy distorted halo that surrounds this fire are tricks of the imagination. How much more will be removed, regained, reconfigured in that time? I worry that perhaps by then I will simply be choking on the smoke.
In closing: poop.
