I thought I was one of the only ones into pre-digital technology. I'm using that book New Media: 1740-1910 in one of my upcoming courses... and here's Neal Stephenson (author of snowcrash, diamond age and cryptonomicon) who's already looking down that path in the popular realm. Good for him.
Wired 11.09: Neal Stephenson Rewrites History
Neal Stephenson Rewrites HistoryFor the dark prince of hacker fiction, looking backward is another way of seeing the future.
I ran into Bill "the scream" Kennedy at the UofT bookstore today, amid the computer books. He told me about two articles, reffed below, from Wired and TheRegister on how Blogs are wrecking the algorithms that run Google.
This is interesting to me in that it shows, once again, how the internet is biased against individuals expressing themselves, communicating, or sharing something about themselves on mass. There seems to be something intrinsically distasteful to the broadcast media, writers, academics and those who control technology about millions of people just sharing the stories of their lives. Though some of us find it delightful.
The Register: Blog noise is 'life or death' for Google
Wired News: Search Results Clogged by Blogs
Of course the fact that according to _The Register_ Most bloggers 'are teenage girls' - survey suggests that there is a modicum of ageism and gender bias involved.
But the question is what? Yuka said that I was supposed to add something, but my mind is a big of a morning fog... Ah, got the word from Yuka.
Two nights ago, at around 2am, I was up mindlessly looking at the TV or computer. Allergies had done their work and prevented me from sleeping. And the phone rings, getting my attention. But it is not the normal ring, rather the ring that means someone is dialing up from downstairs and wants to be let into the apartment. Some nefarious character no doubt. So I ignore it, and it stops.
I go out to the balcony to see who may be there, and there are two ambulances 3-4 police cars and a couple of fire trucks. Strange! Especially because there was no blaring alarms, as would usually announce their presence. Stealth safety workers. And in the middle of the group down there, I see Joshua, the be-dreaded art person from the ground floor who likes my ugly building cam (on the right).
So I shuffle down to see him, somewhat worried that something bad has happened. It turns out that the police are ringing all the apartments in the hopes that someone will let them in, in response to a phone call that a body was seen hanging from a rope inside an apartment. Joshua tells me that there are even a fire captain and police supervisor here... expecting heavy stuff, it seems.
Joshua and I chat for about 15 minutes, he's explaining some circuitry he's designing for graphics, and the difference between parallel and concave geometry in relation to it. I pretty much missed the point. And while doing this, he's directing the odd cop car and fire truck wandering by for a bit of late night rubbernecking.
Finally the paramedics come out, wheeling their gurneys. With no body on board. The verdict? A large doll hung from a rope. A bit of a gruesome living room decoration. Or more likely, for this neighborhood, an art project or movie prop in preparation or discarded after a production.
Joshua wonders about how much money was wasted on this night's adventures. And I wonder if the poor folks who were just pulled out of sleep by all these public safety personnel walking in on their dreams, because of a bit of fun they left hanging around, will ever get back to sleep tonight. I know I will. This kinds of excitement makes me sleepy.