foe romeo: Who's responsible for Technorati's tag results?
Foe speaks lucidly about editorial responsibility.
... I'm not _massively_ surprised that Technorati came off a bit high and mighty - it's always struck me as being a site based on reinforcing arrogance of the... well, technorati. It's a bit snooty feeling, and nose-down-looking; but in that 'slightly too geeky to acknowledge social niceties' sort of way that a lot of people use as an excuse for rudeness.
Nice to see Dave Sifry responding in the comments though.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Transgenic art | Metafilter
Transgenic art | Metafilter
A Cactus with hair.
I remind you, dear MeFi, that Dr Who went the other way, first.
A Cactus with hair.
I remind you, dear MeFi, that Dr Who went the other way, first.
Fluxblog on I ♥ Huckabees
Fluxblog: The 19 Forbidden Notes Of The Boite Diabolique: "Naomi Watts is especially great, which suggests that she has been wasting too much time screaming and crying in shameless Oscar bait when she ought to be doing more comedy"
Absolutely correct. She's really rather fine in this kind of role.
it's a rather lovely film, by the way. I couldn't agree with my cinemate as to whether it's a critique (me) or affirmation (him) of therapy and self-actualisation culture. But whatever, it's got a sex scene involving a muddy puddle, Jude Law suckling a grown man and Shania Twain, not to mention a soundtrack by Jon Brion. We like.
Absolutely correct. She's really rather fine in this kind of role.
it's a rather lovely film, by the way. I couldn't agree with my cinemate as to whether it's a critique (me) or affirmation (him) of therapy and self-actualisation culture. But whatever, it's got a sex scene involving a muddy puddle, Jude Law suckling a grown man and Shania Twain, not to mention a soundtrack by Jon Brion. We like.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Rss duh.
The Trademark Blog is upset that Bloglines is 'Creating a commercial derivative work' from it's RSS feed.
The privacy concerns are possibly valid - but, um, why not include your contact info in your RSS feed, sweets?
It's the bit where the author suggests 'Subscribing to one of the many RSS programs available'.
What, you mean an RSS programme like, uh, say, Bloglines?
Bonk.
The privacy concerns are possibly valid - but, um, why not include your contact info in your RSS feed, sweets?
It's the bit where the author suggests 'Subscribing to one of the many RSS programs available'.
What, you mean an RSS programme like, uh, say, Bloglines?
Bonk.
Friday, January 14, 2005
The upside...
galactica03_1152.jpg (JPEG Image, 1152x870 pixels)
...is, I suppose, not having to feel guilty about the occasional leery bit of thigh rubbing.
...is, I suppose, not having to feel guilty about the occasional leery bit of thigh rubbing.
Supper With The Stars
Supper With The Stars
Repertoire. Stu will keep you entertained with jokes and hilarious catchphrases.
Special Requirements. A bunch of grapes.
Please mummy, can we?
FAntastic b3ta this week. Rob has outshone himself with rude. The poor chap obviously doesn't give a damn any more.
Oh, and for the record, please note that popular geek email rag 'NTK' isn't nearly as good as Amateur Parapsychologists' Monthly. And I'd have whooped the imaginary Dave Green's ass at Blood Bowl, if he'd let me..
Repertoire. Stu will keep you entertained with jokes and hilarious catchphrases.
Special Requirements. A bunch of grapes.
Please mummy, can we?
FAntastic b3ta this week. Rob has outshone himself with rude. The poor chap obviously doesn't give a damn any more.
Oh, and for the record, please note that popular geek email rag 'NTK' isn't nearly as good as Amateur Parapsychologists' Monthly. And I'd have whooped the imaginary Dave Green's ass at Blood Bowl, if he'd let me..
Zeitlupe/SloMo: Blogger-Fundsachen
Zeitlupe/SloMo: Blogger-Fundsachen
Er, anyone speak German? Is my blog _really_ about Design and Self Criticism?
Er, anyone speak German? Is my blog _really_ about Design and Self Criticism?
BBC NEWS | UK | A design for (long) life
BBC NEWS | UK | A design for (long) life
Hurrah!
The big button phone is indeed revolutionary for oldies. You can't imagine the problems my folks have. Their particular problem is when being asked to type in numbers on the keypad - they can't do it quickly enough and return the phone to their ear to hear the response from the system.
Design decisions like this are so subtle, but _so_ important.
Hurrah!
The big button phone is indeed revolutionary for oldies. You can't imagine the problems my folks have. Their particular problem is when being asked to type in numbers on the keypad - they can't do it quickly enough and return the phone to their ear to hear the response from the system.
Design decisions like this are so subtle, but _so_ important.
Fuck Miss America
I've just read a really very sad account of a chap with AIDS losing his sight.
I'm really fortunate in that I came on to the gay scene a bit too late to lose my friends to HIV. By the time I was out, the worst of that constant cull of beautiful men passed me by. So the AIDS crisis is only real to me through stories.
However, it was truly brought home to me about two years ago, during a late night conversation. The night was spent talking life stories, and I heard the extraordinary tale of the girl who was adopted by Queens, and then had to watch whilst AIDS took all of her friends. Her life had been full of beads, glitter, royal balls, the pomp and circumstance of the American drag scene. And then her best friend moved from being positive, to having full blown AIDS, and she gave up her life to care for him. She wiped his shit up, she coped with his hallucinations, she managed his dementia and his drugs.
I can't tell you the most hearbreaking half of it.
That story was the start - there was falling in love, sometime during the crying. The first moment of a long, lush intimacy which was meant to last for the rest of our lives. And we were planning that time - the house, a family, shoring ourselves against the loss that both of us seem to constantly expect. The unlikeliness of finding the one was surprising, and felt too special to be real.
Well, it turns out it was.
My girlfriend has told me our relationship is over. We limped through christmas, not talking. The day after boxing day, as soon as we wouldn't be ruining christmas, it all happened. I still can't behave as if it is true, I still talk about it as if it were a live thing, and not history. As if I hadn't been read the verdict.
'I still love you... I'm just not in love with you any more'.
That is the only thing that has changed in my life - the formal rescinding of a promise. We still share our living space, our sleeping arrangements are the same, the bills are still in both our names, but all promises are off. I have to be supportive and kind whilst she changes her life to exclude me. I have to answer the phone to the new people she's fucking now. She has to watch me turn silent and grim and angry and withdrawn.
I know it's going to be bad, because I haven't started hurting yet.
I'm really fortunate in that I came on to the gay scene a bit too late to lose my friends to HIV. By the time I was out, the worst of that constant cull of beautiful men passed me by. So the AIDS crisis is only real to me through stories.
However, it was truly brought home to me about two years ago, during a late night conversation. The night was spent talking life stories, and I heard the extraordinary tale of the girl who was adopted by Queens, and then had to watch whilst AIDS took all of her friends. Her life had been full of beads, glitter, royal balls, the pomp and circumstance of the American drag scene. And then her best friend moved from being positive, to having full blown AIDS, and she gave up her life to care for him. She wiped his shit up, she coped with his hallucinations, she managed his dementia and his drugs.
I can't tell you the most hearbreaking half of it.
That story was the start - there was falling in love, sometime during the crying. The first moment of a long, lush intimacy which was meant to last for the rest of our lives. And we were planning that time - the house, a family, shoring ourselves against the loss that both of us seem to constantly expect. The unlikeliness of finding the one was surprising, and felt too special to be real.
Well, it turns out it was.
My girlfriend has told me our relationship is over. We limped through christmas, not talking. The day after boxing day, as soon as we wouldn't be ruining christmas, it all happened. I still can't behave as if it is true, I still talk about it as if it were a live thing, and not history. As if I hadn't been read the verdict.
'I still love you... I'm just not in love with you any more'.
That is the only thing that has changed in my life - the formal rescinding of a promise. We still share our living space, our sleeping arrangements are the same, the bills are still in both our names, but all promises are off. I have to be supportive and kind whilst she changes her life to exclude me. I have to answer the phone to the new people she's fucking now. She has to watch me turn silent and grim and angry and withdrawn.
I know it's going to be bad, because I haven't started hurting yet.
Hamster Carnage
Joe. My. God.: Charlie & Buttercup
Fuck, that's one of the best blogposts I've read in a very long time. J.M.G., you really are a paragon among men.
Fuck, that's one of the best blogposts I've read in a very long time. J.M.G., you really are a paragon among men.
6823 Surface Transport
6823 Surface Transport
The wheels on this one were really, really nice to chew.
It was one of the first with yellow spacemen, too.
The wheels on this one were really, really nice to chew.
It was one of the first with yellow spacemen, too.
Brickshelf Gallery
Brickshelf Gallery
Oh, god.
Soud Proust and his biscuits. I've literally just had the smell of my parent's livingroom carpet tiles waft in to my nostrils. A complete hallucination, of course, but triggered by seeing the lego I grew up with. None of that Bionicles shit... proper lego that just couldn't wait to embed itself in your parent's bare feet.
These are just burnt into my memory. I can look at them and say 'oh, that was the one you could get for free with weetabix... and that one was the first to have the bendy pipes...'
I feel a trip to Kingston coming on...
Oh, god.
Soud Proust and his biscuits. I've literally just had the smell of my parent's livingroom carpet tiles waft in to my nostrils. A complete hallucination, of course, but triggered by seeing the lego I grew up with. None of that Bionicles shit... proper lego that just couldn't wait to embed itself in your parent's bare feet.
These are just burnt into my memory. I can look at them and say 'oh, that was the one you could get for free with weetabix... and that one was the first to have the bendy pipes...'
I feel a trip to Kingston coming on...
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Tant Pis
Emma Kennedy is having a bad day, the poor darling.
Her beagle peed in her laptop.
I don't think I've expressed my general admiration for Emma's writing before, but her blog really is most fine. She has a rather pleasant rambling turn of phrase, and a habit of using recurrring jokes, which I greatly appreciate. It all feels... Woodhousean, and makes me laugh out loud in the office, which only serves to reinforce my reputation for being odd.
For a famous person, she seems much too friendly, pleasant and jolly. I worry that she'll be tainted by celebrity and loose her natural, straightforward charm. Or become cynical, or be led astray by one of those Sadie Frost types into a life of designer frippery and casual drug abuse in fashionable soho members clubs.
It would be a waste.
Her beagle peed in her laptop.
I don't think I've expressed my general admiration for Emma's writing before, but her blog really is most fine. She has a rather pleasant rambling turn of phrase, and a habit of using recurrring jokes, which I greatly appreciate. It all feels... Woodhousean, and makes me laugh out loud in the office, which only serves to reinforce my reputation for being odd.
For a famous person, she seems much too friendly, pleasant and jolly. I worry that she'll be tainted by celebrity and loose her natural, straightforward charm. Or become cynical, or be led astray by one of those Sadie Frost types into a life of designer frippery and casual drug abuse in fashionable soho members clubs.
It would be a waste.
Monday, January 10, 2005
Darth Vader vs Tony Benn
stereohype.com >>> graphic art & fashion boutique
Heh. Would buy it instantly, but frankly 2.95 p&p for a 1.50 badge seems a bit shit.
Heh. Would buy it instantly, but frankly 2.95 p&p for a 1.50 badge seems a bit shit.
Friday, January 07, 2005
Jesus and Blasphemers
BBC NEWS | Entertainment | TV and Radio | Actor defends Springer TV opera: "while a reported total of 8,000 obscenities was reached by adding every swear word sung by each member of the 27-strong chorus."
Aah. Well, there goes the credibility of the protesters outside my office window. Jesus blesses those who massage statistics, obviously...
It's the uttering of the filth that counts... even if it is simultaneous with 26 other utterances...
Aah. Well, there goes the credibility of the protesters outside my office window. Jesus blesses those who massage statistics, obviously...
It's the uttering of the filth that counts... even if it is simultaneous with 26 other utterances...
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Now on the Big Screen!
There's a good alertbox this month - Saint Jakob the Useable is back on form after a few off columns.
The bit about physical links, user-created organisation and search is chiming with a lot of thinking that I'm doing right now.
However, here's one bit I take severe umbrage to...
Reviving Advanced Hypertext (Jakob Nielsen's Alertbox): "Once we get screens the size and resolution of a broadsheet newspaper, the user interface will change."
Hmn. Now, why are broadsheet papers the size they are? Do you know, children?
Tax.
Sometime in the ?1800s, the government levied a tax on newspapers: and they levied it on a per page basis. So, the more pages you had in your paper, the more tax you paid.
Now, newspaper magnates, even in the 19th century, are nothing if not canny types. Their response to this was to increace the size of their pages. Same word count, less tax. Smart.
One paper got so smart, they printed the whole thing on a sheet the size of a blackboard, and just origami'ed it for ease of portability.
Previously, papers had been something between A4 and tabloid size - pretty much the maximum size it's comfortable to read without laying a paper flat on a table. All of the common design tropes of newspaper layout were adapted to facilitate the use of something that was just, frankly, too cumbersome to be used comfortably.
And what's happening in the UK? All of those broadsheets are going back to tabloid size. Why? Because a tabloid paper is about the same width as your shoulders.
It's related to the reason that things like plasterboard and MDF come in 8'x4' sheets. Rooms are often taller than 8', but an 8'x4' sheet is around about the maximum size your average builder can carry on his own - it's the size of an armspan, basically.* A tabloid the width of your shoulders is comfortable to hold and read. And you can read it on the tube without swamping your traveling companions in reams of folds.
Every other 'big screen' isn't about more in the display, it's about the same, but bigger and more lifelike. Can you imagine Sky trying to add an extra 4 hours or six channels on to their EPG because tellys are bigger? It would be illegible at the increaced distance needed for comfortable viewing.
The other thing to bear in mind is edges. I know Jakob is a devotee of text, but the web is about rich media too. Reading the equivalent of a broadsheet on a portable screen, clicking a hyperlink and getting a fullscreen video - the screen would extend into your peripheral vision. And the minute any big cameramoves happened, you'd get motionsick. Try watching the blair witch project from the front row of a cinema sometime. I guarantee you'll get seasick.
Now, at home I work at a very generous 1600x1200. But If I'm working with text in, say, word, I always end up 'fitting width to screen' - because it's the most comfortable reading experience. Imagine a high-res, wallsized screen. You're on your sofa, with your remote, reading from a distance of 8 feet or more. You'll want really big text, and it's not going to be comfortable. I bet there's field of view issues there, too - strain on the eye muscles...
The best you'll get is some very big headlines, and a dynamic focusy-zoomy change - a bit like the mac dock. But it'll be at best for distracted catch ups - serious reading will always be more comfortable on the handheld, A4 to tabloid scale.
*I have problems carrying four-bi'eight. Because I'm a girl with large breasts, so some of my span is taken up by holding the sheet away from my body, unbalancing me. If women were the socially dominant sex, you'd have five-bi'three instead. Actually, no you wouldn't - we'd get the blokes to do all the heavy lifting... wink.
The bit about physical links, user-created organisation and search is chiming with a lot of thinking that I'm doing right now.
However, here's one bit I take severe umbrage to...
Reviving Advanced Hypertext (Jakob Nielsen's Alertbox): "Once we get screens the size and resolution of a broadsheet newspaper, the user interface will change."
Hmn. Now, why are broadsheet papers the size they are? Do you know, children?
Tax.
Sometime in the ?1800s, the government levied a tax on newspapers: and they levied it on a per page basis. So, the more pages you had in your paper, the more tax you paid.
Now, newspaper magnates, even in the 19th century, are nothing if not canny types. Their response to this was to increace the size of their pages. Same word count, less tax. Smart.
One paper got so smart, they printed the whole thing on a sheet the size of a blackboard, and just origami'ed it for ease of portability.
Previously, papers had been something between A4 and tabloid size - pretty much the maximum size it's comfortable to read without laying a paper flat on a table. All of the common design tropes of newspaper layout were adapted to facilitate the use of something that was just, frankly, too cumbersome to be used comfortably.
And what's happening in the UK? All of those broadsheets are going back to tabloid size. Why? Because a tabloid paper is about the same width as your shoulders.
It's related to the reason that things like plasterboard and MDF come in 8'x4' sheets. Rooms are often taller than 8', but an 8'x4' sheet is around about the maximum size your average builder can carry on his own - it's the size of an armspan, basically.* A tabloid the width of your shoulders is comfortable to hold and read. And you can read it on the tube without swamping your traveling companions in reams of folds.
Every other 'big screen' isn't about more in the display, it's about the same, but bigger and more lifelike. Can you imagine Sky trying to add an extra 4 hours or six channels on to their EPG because tellys are bigger? It would be illegible at the increaced distance needed for comfortable viewing.
The other thing to bear in mind is edges. I know Jakob is a devotee of text, but the web is about rich media too. Reading the equivalent of a broadsheet on a portable screen, clicking a hyperlink and getting a fullscreen video - the screen would extend into your peripheral vision. And the minute any big cameramoves happened, you'd get motionsick. Try watching the blair witch project from the front row of a cinema sometime. I guarantee you'll get seasick.
Now, at home I work at a very generous 1600x1200. But If I'm working with text in, say, word, I always end up 'fitting width to screen' - because it's the most comfortable reading experience. Imagine a high-res, wallsized screen. You're on your sofa, with your remote, reading from a distance of 8 feet or more. You'll want really big text, and it's not going to be comfortable. I bet there's field of view issues there, too - strain on the eye muscles...
The best you'll get is some very big headlines, and a dynamic focusy-zoomy change - a bit like the mac dock. But it'll be at best for distracted catch ups - serious reading will always be more comfortable on the handheld, A4 to tabloid scale.
*I have problems carrying four-bi'eight. Because I'm a girl with large breasts, so some of my span is taken up by holding the sheet away from my body, unbalancing me. If women were the socially dominant sex, you'd have five-bi'three instead. Actually, no you wouldn't - we'd get the blokes to do all the heavy lifting... wink.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
We're going to need a bigger lap...
A fantastic Craig's List post.
I feel rather sad that Craig's List has been bought by eBay. The internet just isn't what it used to be...
I feel rather sad that Craig's List has been bought by eBay. The internet just isn't what it used to be...
Friday, December 31, 2004
Deckled edges, true letterpress...
Identity Card Concept Project : Courtesy Blood Card : True Identity
Loving Mr Coates' business card with handwriting, and vaguely wondering how I'd represent myself...
Found this - a bloodsample trust business card.
One hitch... HIV.
Loving Mr Coates' business card with handwriting, and vaguely wondering how I'd represent myself...
Found this - a bloodsample trust business card.
One hitch... HIV.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Sunday, December 26, 2004
Ingenuity in adversity
Well, have made it through Christmas. I might write more about it later, but there's a lot I don't feel like writing about at the moment.
So, instead, a few words about the most extraordinary documentary I've just seen - Miracle on the River Kwai - about the makeshift hospital camps set up by the POWs building the infamous jungle railway.
It was remarkble in that one of the old soldiers they interviewed was a talented draughtsman, and had sketched scenes. They bought home the experience much harder, for being an eyewitness record.
But... the thing that amazed me and made it such a fantstic document was the improvised medical procedures the interns (what a telling double meaning that is...) came up with. They realised that blood plasma from prisoners contained antibodies - so seperated plasma from samples using a centrifuge made from discarded bottles and a bicycle to drive the spin.
They made a vitamin replacement drink by fermenting rice, banana and spit.
Remarkable.
So, instead, a few words about the most extraordinary documentary I've just seen - Miracle on the River Kwai - about the makeshift hospital camps set up by the POWs building the infamous jungle railway.
It was remarkble in that one of the old soldiers they interviewed was a talented draughtsman, and had sketched scenes. They bought home the experience much harder, for being an eyewitness record.
But... the thing that amazed me and made it such a fantstic document was the improvised medical procedures the interns (what a telling double meaning that is...) came up with. They realised that blood plasma from prisoners contained antibodies - so seperated plasma from samples using a centrifuge made from discarded bottles and a bicycle to drive the spin.
They made a vitamin replacement drink by fermenting rice, banana and spit.
Remarkable.
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Easy Does It
Easy Does It
An insightful investigation of work/time and motion, and the need for accessible tech in the home. Gendered technology is always an interesting subject...
An insightful investigation of work/time and motion, and the need for accessible tech in the home. Gendered technology is always an interesting subject...
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Your most popular photos on Flickr, sorted by the number of favorites
Your most popular photos on Flickr, sorted by the number of favorites
270 people like the photo of my girlfriend in a bikini
But more people have marked my gay cake as a favourite.
Yay.
270 people like the photo of my girlfriend in a bikini
But more people have marked my gay cake as a favourite.
Yay.
Beware the IAs of March
PML (Psychogeographical Markup Language)
A brand of XML designed for describing psychogeography and psychogeographical occurrences.
An objective description language, for subjective events.
Heh.
A brand of XML designed for describing psychogeography and psychogeographical occurrences.
An objective description language, for subjective events.
Heh.
Monday, December 20, 2004
MediaGuardian.co.uk | Media | 'We have the best brand in the world'
MediaGuardian.co.uk | Media | 'We have the best brand in the world'
Sigh.
I'm not sure if this is journalistic or managemental overenthusiasm.
My boss'sboss'sboss does seem to be inappropriately visionary at times. He's going to land us all in hot water one day...
Sigh.
I'm not sure if this is journalistic or managemental overenthusiasm.
My boss'sboss'sboss does seem to be inappropriately visionary at times. He's going to land us all in hot water one day...
Thursday, December 16, 2004
T E X T F I L E S
T E X T F I L E S
Aww, how sweet.
"Not long ago, many data communicators thought that dial-up modem manufacturers had pushed transmission speeds to the limit with the introduction of 2400 bit
per second (bps) modems. Recently, however, several manufacturers have
creatively combined relatively mature techniques of data transmission with newer
technology and have introduced 9600 bps modems."
Aww, how sweet.
See Igor, it moves...
I've had a morning written by Mary Shelley.
As part of my ongoing - and slightly halfhearted - attempts to sort out my wrist problems, I've been to the hospital. Now, the wrist problems are some kind of RSI - but that's such a blanket vague term, it's very hard to know what exactly the problem is, particularly as my symptoms come and go according to their own fell schedule.
The latest thinking - after finally having a GP who took me seriously enough to refer me to a speciallist - is that my posture has become stooped due to the excessive ammounts of time I spend sitting in front of computers. Specifically, I push my chin forward, which means my neck bends at the wrong point. This means that my cervical spine is slowly beginning to fuse - an arthritic condition called Spondylosis. The stiffness this causes means that the big nerves are being pressed where they exit from my spincal cord - and that's what makes my arms, wrists and hands hurt. Phew. So, strictly, I have PRULD - Posture related upper limb disorder.
Anyway, to make damn sure that the pressure in my neck was the problem, and not some pinching or nerve damage further down, the speciallist sent me to another speciallist for an EMG. That's Electromyography to us laymen - or electric-muscle-drawing if you translate the doctorese.
Having finally found the right bit of St georges hospital - which is insanely huge, I add - I finally got ushered in to a tiny little room, and electrodes were taped to my arm.
The doctor then used a taser to give me electric shocks. And when he'd done with that, he stuck needles deep into my muscles, put elecrified lasoos around my fingers, and made me tense my muscles around the needles. And then he ran current through the electrified lasoos. Which made my arms twitch, further moving the needles that were well embedded in my flesh.
It was the most horrible, sick-to-your-stomach thing I've ever had done. Much worse than having my back cut open. And my arm still hurts an hour and a half later.
Ow.
And it turns out that the tests proved the problem is in my neck, as suspected.
Grr.
As part of my ongoing - and slightly halfhearted - attempts to sort out my wrist problems, I've been to the hospital. Now, the wrist problems are some kind of RSI - but that's such a blanket vague term, it's very hard to know what exactly the problem is, particularly as my symptoms come and go according to their own fell schedule.
The latest thinking - after finally having a GP who took me seriously enough to refer me to a speciallist - is that my posture has become stooped due to the excessive ammounts of time I spend sitting in front of computers. Specifically, I push my chin forward, which means my neck bends at the wrong point. This means that my cervical spine is slowly beginning to fuse - an arthritic condition called Spondylosis. The stiffness this causes means that the big nerves are being pressed where they exit from my spincal cord - and that's what makes my arms, wrists and hands hurt. Phew. So, strictly, I have PRULD - Posture related upper limb disorder.
Anyway, to make damn sure that the pressure in my neck was the problem, and not some pinching or nerve damage further down, the speciallist sent me to another speciallist for an EMG. That's Electromyography to us laymen - or electric-muscle-drawing if you translate the doctorese.
Having finally found the right bit of St georges hospital - which is insanely huge, I add - I finally got ushered in to a tiny little room, and electrodes were taped to my arm.
The doctor then used a taser to give me electric shocks. And when he'd done with that, he stuck needles deep into my muscles, put elecrified lasoos around my fingers, and made me tense my muscles around the needles. And then he ran current through the electrified lasoos. Which made my arms twitch, further moving the needles that were well embedded in my flesh.
It was the most horrible, sick-to-your-stomach thing I've ever had done. Much worse than having my back cut open. And my arm still hurts an hour and a half later.
Ow.
And it turns out that the tests proved the problem is in my neck, as suspected.
Grr.
Monday, December 13, 2004
Just not Working
I'm loving Rodcorp's ongoing series about the working habits of highly effective people. Much better than any pat self improvement book. The entry from Paul H the lawyer amused me though, most notably for the gender bias it displays, and the classic joke about there never being enough cubibles in ladies loos, anywhere. I can only assume from the figures that the ladies are almost at three-to-a-stall, with no standing at the urinal option. Or at least, not without practice.
(Oh, dang. www.restrooms.org/standing.html has gone, to be replaced by a page advertising... well, go anywhere pee tubes. Shame)
I love the whole territorial concept of each male lawyer scent-marking his territory. Pissing contests are literally played out in that company, with the Alphamale's delicate position when threatened by the young, strong challengers neatly encapsulated by the luxurious but adapted disable cubicle...
I claim to be neither effective nor creative - but my work habits are definately dispersed and up to the wire. I spend the maximum time possible researching and thinking, then produce work in 'first draft' - almost never going back to edit or reorder. It's a slightly zen way of doing things - maximum preperation, then empty mind and definite execution. Weirdly, I seem to have inherited this approach from my mother, who is also a ruthless deadline queen. Rumour has it she was still hemming her wedding dress in the taxi on the way to the registry office.
(Oh, dang. www.restrooms.org/standing.html has gone, to be replaced by a page advertising... well, go anywhere pee tubes. Shame)
I love the whole territorial concept of each male lawyer scent-marking his territory. Pissing contests are literally played out in that company, with the Alphamale's delicate position when threatened by the young, strong challengers neatly encapsulated by the luxurious but adapted disable cubicle...
I claim to be neither effective nor creative - but my work habits are definately dispersed and up to the wire. I spend the maximum time possible researching and thinking, then produce work in 'first draft' - almost never going back to edit or reorder. It's a slightly zen way of doing things - maximum preperation, then empty mind and definite execution. Weirdly, I seem to have inherited this approach from my mother, who is also a ruthless deadline queen. Rumour has it she was still hemming her wedding dress in the taxi on the way to the registry office.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Jigsaws are the New Black
There was much discussion last night of the joys of codgeryness at the work christmas party last night. The party, frankly, was rubbish, but we think it may have been more to do with the fact that it was the fifth party for some of us, and the novelty has worn thin.
But codgeryness is lovely. We find it manifesting in our lives in strange ways; getting annoyed because Radio 4 is knocked off the air by the local pirate station is one of the more entertaining signs we've identified.
There's a lovely example of codgeryness being the new cool on Emma Kennedy's blog - the joy of eating crisps and playing trivial pursuit.
But I now have my own version.
Jigsaws.
Lord, they're the most magnificent form of entertainment imaginable.
But codgeryness is lovely. We find it manifesting in our lives in strange ways; getting annoyed because Radio 4 is knocked off the air by the local pirate station is one of the more entertaining signs we've identified.
There's a lovely example of codgeryness being the new cool on Emma Kennedy's blog - the joy of eating crisps and playing trivial pursuit.
But I now have my own version.
Jigsaws.
Lord, they're the most magnificent form of entertainment imaginable.
Manger scene with cotton balls
This Flickr Photo nearly made me cry.
That's a really odd thing to say. It's not a particularly special picture, but there's a reason.
Every christmas, my Great Aunt used to put a manger scene in her front window in Canterbury. The dolls she used were homemade, and obviously old - something about the way their faces were drawn on just screamed 1920s. There were always the three wise men, the shepherds, the whole mullarkey. All were decorated with amazing scraps of material, probably leftovers from my Great Grandmother's fancy dress business.
The tableau would be arranged in front of a large piece of dark blue silk, with fairylights hung over all to make it look like stars. The whole thing had a slightly tatty but old-fashioned charm.
I always took it for granted until one day I was on my way to a pub with an art college tutor, and a bunch of friends. The tutor stopped dead in front of Auntie Muriel's window, looked at the dolls, and said 'I love this house. I always feel like it's properly christmas when they put up their nativity. It's such a wonderful thing.'
I felt so proud when I could say - 'Yes, it's my Great Aunt's house'.
That's why I'm sad. I don't think it'll be there this year, as her son and daughter probably don't have the heart for it.
Laurence, if you read this, and you both decide you don't want to do the nativity any more... it's the one thing that I'd really appreciate inheriting. But only if it's time for it to go.
That's a really odd thing to say. It's not a particularly special picture, but there's a reason.
Every christmas, my Great Aunt used to put a manger scene in her front window in Canterbury. The dolls she used were homemade, and obviously old - something about the way their faces were drawn on just screamed 1920s. There were always the three wise men, the shepherds, the whole mullarkey. All were decorated with amazing scraps of material, probably leftovers from my Great Grandmother's fancy dress business.
The tableau would be arranged in front of a large piece of dark blue silk, with fairylights hung over all to make it look like stars. The whole thing had a slightly tatty but old-fashioned charm.
I always took it for granted until one day I was on my way to a pub with an art college tutor, and a bunch of friends. The tutor stopped dead in front of Auntie Muriel's window, looked at the dolls, and said 'I love this house. I always feel like it's properly christmas when they put up their nativity. It's such a wonderful thing.'
I felt so proud when I could say - 'Yes, it's my Great Aunt's house'.
That's why I'm sad. I don't think it'll be there this year, as her son and daughter probably don't have the heart for it.
Laurence, if you read this, and you both decide you don't want to do the nativity any more... it's the one thing that I'd really appreciate inheriting. But only if it's time for it to go.
Sunday, December 05, 2004
London Underground Map
Heritage: Exploring Underground London
Yet more on the lazy blogmeme of the underground map.
But this one... well, it's got rivers, roman highstreets, sewers and Eisenhowers HQ marked on it.
Nice.
Yet more on the lazy blogmeme of the underground map.
But this one... well, it's got rivers, roman highstreets, sewers and Eisenhowers HQ marked on it.
Nice.
Would you like me to make the connection for you?
By the magic of technorati, I've discovered the owner of an admirable collection of facial hair discussing my old post about London Telephone Exchanges. He was wondering what the link between SMS and the exchange mnemonics was, and rather than post the most enormous comment on his blog, I've moved it here. Oh, Blogger, do kindly impliment trackback....
The link (between exchanges and SMS) is the labelling of buttons on phonedials with letters, and the use of a numberpad for alphabetic input. I've always wondered why, despite the fact that British phones are lettered, we've never adopted the American practice of using 'words' as phonenumbers for advertising. 0800-there's-no-q-or-o-on-the-old-style-dials, maybe?
Actually, I'm hacked off about STOnegrove because I live in PUTney. If I had a number on the Putney exchange, I'd be telling everyone that my number was Putney 30## with utter glee (and a sort of forced, clipped RP accent), because part of me wants to live in the 1940s.
(Actually, I suppose it's possible I live in GIBbon, but I don't give a monkeys for that exchange name, it's just not stylish enough)
I do remember Telegrams, and that strange thing they became... what was it called? Ah, Telemessages: http://www.btaccurate.com/whatwedo_telehistory.html
Did you know that you can now send an MMS, and for something like 5 quid have it delivered as a printed postcard, by post? Technology is finaly bringing itself back to the tangible...
Ooh! It turns out the exchange is Gibbon because the Decline and fall of the blah blah blah chap was born in putney. Well, I never.
The link (between exchanges and SMS) is the labelling of buttons on phonedials with letters, and the use of a numberpad for alphabetic input. I've always wondered why, despite the fact that British phones are lettered, we've never adopted the American practice of using 'words' as phonenumbers for advertising. 0800-there's-no-q-or-o-on-the-old-style-dials, maybe?
Actually, I'm hacked off about STOnegrove because I live in PUTney. If I had a number on the Putney exchange, I'd be telling everyone that my number was Putney 30## with utter glee (and a sort of forced, clipped RP accent), because part of me wants to live in the 1940s.
(Actually, I suppose it's possible I live in GIBbon, but I don't give a monkeys for that exchange name, it's just not stylish enough)
I do remember Telegrams, and that strange thing they became... what was it called? Ah, Telemessages: http://www.btaccurate.com/whatwedo_telehistory.html
Did you know that you can now send an MMS, and for something like 5 quid have it delivered as a printed postcard, by post? Technology is finaly bringing itself back to the tangible...
Ooh! It turns out the exchange is Gibbon because the Decline and fall of the blah blah blah chap was born in putney. Well, I never.
Edward Gibbon and his amazing comedy testicles
Edward Gibbon - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
OMG. Edward Gibbon had testicles the size of watermelons.
Blimey, I do love facts.
OMG. Edward Gibbon had testicles the size of watermelons.
Blimey, I do love facts.
Saturday, December 04, 2004
A national monumnet demolished.
BBC NEWS | Entertainment | TV and Radio | Obituary: Fred Dibnah
Only just found out about this, due to fortuitous turning off of reality-show pap in time to watch some proper telly.
I'm rather sad, as one of my favourite things in recent months has been lying abed'o'saturday watching old Fred Dibnah shows on UK History.
What a star the man was. Buy, you know you're getting to be middle aged when your idea of top telly is a man talking about canals and traction engines.
All the good people are karking it at the moment.
Only just found out about this, due to fortuitous turning off of reality-show pap in time to watch some proper telly.
I'm rather sad, as one of my favourite things in recent months has been lying abed'o'saturday watching old Fred Dibnah shows on UK History.
What a star the man was. Buy, you know you're getting to be middle aged when your idea of top telly is a man talking about canals and traction engines.
All the good people are karking it at the moment.
Friday, December 03, 2004
ofoe romeo: Softer wins
foe romeo: Softer wins
Foe's musings about 'soft wins' and games to be played in the living room (uh, that'll be parlour games, then, will it, kim?) has prodded my brain into remembering my killer red-button etv app.
It's based around the idea of strugggling for control of the remote. You have a number of players - the game is unimportant, maybe a simple quiz, or a timed challenge - but to 'win' a round you have to be the person who makes the fastest lunge for the remote control on the coffee table.
It's a lovely way of enducing good natured mayhem, as family members become increacingly devious about hiding the remote, inching closer, faking moves etc etc.
Foe's musings about 'soft wins' and games to be played in the living room (uh, that'll be parlour games, then, will it, kim?) has prodded my brain into remembering my killer red-button etv app.
It's based around the idea of strugggling for control of the remote. You have a number of players - the game is unimportant, maybe a simple quiz, or a timed challenge - but to 'win' a round you have to be the person who makes the fastest lunge for the remote control on the coffee table.
It's a lovely way of enducing good natured mayhem, as family members become increacingly devious about hiding the remote, inching closer, faking moves etc etc.
Headshift :: smarter, simpler, social
Headshift :: smarter, simpler, social
"Distributed CPU cycles are worthless unless you're SETI or Pixar. Distributed brain cycles... now that's a much more intriguing proposition."
Nice. Soing a lot of thinking about distributed metadata efforts today. And this is a lovely way of looking at the problem... sorry, the solution.
It's far better to have a million reasoning minds working on a problem unknowingly, than a million unknowing minds working reasonably.
"Distributed CPU cycles are worthless unless you're SETI or Pixar. Distributed brain cycles... now that's a much more intriguing proposition."
Nice. Soing a lot of thinking about distributed metadata efforts today. And this is a lovely way of looking at the problem... sorry, the solution.
It's far better to have a million reasoning minds working on a problem unknowingly, than a million unknowing minds working reasonably.
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
BBC - Norfolk - Kids - My Life As a Teenage Goth
BBC - Norfolk - Kids - My Life As a Teenage Goth
Great use of user comments on a site. And bless the likkle 12 year old rebels. Heh. Let's hope the site's still there when they're 20...
Great use of user comments on a site. And bless the likkle 12 year old rebels. Heh. Let's hope the site's still there when they're 20...
Friday, November 12, 2004
rodcorp: At the exact centre of London, Britain's smallest police station
rodcorp: At the exact centre of London, Britain's smallest police station
This is lovely - the tiniest policestation imaginable. And also a discussion of the centre of continents and cities, which is one of those idle memes that pops into my head every now and then.
Actually, it brought back a memory. There was a Professor at the University of Kent, called Cyril Eisenberg - I don't know if he's still there. His specialism was, I presume, fluid dynamics, as once in a while he would give open lectures for my dad's young scientists organisation about things like bubbles, rainbows and smoke rings.
It was from him I learnt, age 7 ish, how to make a smoke ring machine out of a cardboard box and a condom. These are now marketed as Airzookas - wish I'd made that leap earlier. Although I doubt they're still made out of condoms.
Anyway, at his bubble demonstrations he would show a method he had devised for determining the centres of irregular shapes, and ways to determine the shortest distance between a number of points on their perimiter. It, of course, invovled bubbles.
He would trace the irregular shape in pins, stretched between two sheets of perspex. When dipped vertically into a bucket of bubble concentrate, the sheets of bubble automatically fall into the most efficient arrangement of planes and vectors between the points around the edge - by simple dint of surface tension. The patterns can be simply measured to determine the precise geometric centre of the shape.
So elegant, and also quite beautiful. And a huge ammount of fun if you're a 7 year old geek, as you can imagine.
Hey, Cyril still gives his lecture - check him out.
This is lovely - the tiniest policestation imaginable. And also a discussion of the centre of continents and cities, which is one of those idle memes that pops into my head every now and then.
Actually, it brought back a memory. There was a Professor at the University of Kent, called Cyril Eisenberg - I don't know if he's still there. His specialism was, I presume, fluid dynamics, as once in a while he would give open lectures for my dad's young scientists organisation about things like bubbles, rainbows and smoke rings.
It was from him I learnt, age 7 ish, how to make a smoke ring machine out of a cardboard box and a condom. These are now marketed as Airzookas - wish I'd made that leap earlier. Although I doubt they're still made out of condoms.
Anyway, at his bubble demonstrations he would show a method he had devised for determining the centres of irregular shapes, and ways to determine the shortest distance between a number of points on their perimiter. It, of course, invovled bubbles.
He would trace the irregular shape in pins, stretched between two sheets of perspex. When dipped vertically into a bucket of bubble concentrate, the sheets of bubble automatically fall into the most efficient arrangement of planes and vectors between the points around the edge - by simple dint of surface tension. The patterns can be simply measured to determine the precise geometric centre of the shape.
So elegant, and also quite beautiful. And a huge ammount of fun if you're a 7 year old geek, as you can imagine.
Hey, Cyril still gives his lecture - check him out.
Inklings of importance
A presentation on Flickr given by one of it's creators.
It's totally fascinating, and relevant, but I understand a tiny fraction of it.
Someone explain?
It's totally fascinating, and relevant, but I understand a tiny fraction of it.
Someone explain?
Monday, November 01, 2004
Mildly Diverting is out there
Mildly Diverting
Aaaah.
My family appeared to have discovered this site.
Hi Dad. Hi Laurence.
Be warned. I don't really censor myself here. So... decide what you want to know about me before reading on.
Aaaah.
My family appeared to have discovered this site.
Hi Dad. Hi Laurence.
Be warned. I don't really censor myself here. So... decide what you want to know about me before reading on.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
How to insult teenagers with stately grace
So there I was, on a popular p2p filesharing app. And a crash wiped my waiting list. Frankly, I wasn't too worried as it was a bunch of people leeching Eminem bootlegs that weren't staying in my collection any longer than the time it would take me to id3 tag them for a friend.
Being the nice lady I am, I left my computer running whilst I was at work, so it could node away to its hearts' content. And I returned home to some verry sniffy IM messages from one of said Eminem leechers.
Sadly, the first part of the exchange was lost to a forced reboot. My recollection of it was something along the lines of 'Hey, where's your eminem?' 'I was downloading that album from you' 'you're an asshole for removing your files'.
So, being a good community minded soul, I sent a few lines back, saying sorry, my harddrive wasn't on, and I'd be happy to make the files available, but that I didn't appreciate being called 'asshole'. I think I'm perfectly within my rights to say this, as my profile clearly states be civil, or feel the wrath of my matronly stare,
So, here's the remainder of the IM conversation, with frankly the Best Insult Ever to throw at a teenage Eminem fan who is calling you asshole.
Oh, and if you happen to encounter this chap... give him a stern stare from me?
Being the nice lady I am, I left my computer running whilst I was at work, so it could node away to its hearts' content. And I returned home to some verry sniffy IM messages from one of said Eminem leechers.
Sadly, the first part of the exchange was lost to a forced reboot. My recollection of it was something along the lines of 'Hey, where's your eminem?' 'I was downloading that album from you' 'you're an asshole for removing your files'.
So, being a good community minded soul, I sent a few lines back, saying sorry, my harddrive wasn't on, and I'd be happy to make the files available, but that I didn't appreciate being called 'asshole'. I think I'm perfectly within my rights to say this, as my profile clearly states be civil, or feel the wrath of my matronly stare,
So, here's the remainder of the IM conversation, with frankly the Best Insult Ever to throw at a teenage Eminem fan who is calling you asshole.
[southern-rock] all user that remoed files is an asshole ..... get the fuck out from this program ore i will shot you downKa-ching.
[mildlydiverting] Southern Rock, I'm very sorry. I would have been happy to sort out those files for you, but frankly your attitude isn't doing you any favours. I appologise that I was away from my computer at work all day, and that my system crashed
[mildlydiverting]These things happen.
[southern-rock] you will be bann from slsk.net and program .... bye asshole
[mildlydiverting] You know, one day you'll be married with kids, a mortgage and a mid ranged car. And you'll be happy.
Oh, and if you happen to encounter this chap... give him a stern stare from me?
A notebook of Every thought in your head
I've just skim read the first chapter or so of this.
It's oddly compelling. Partly because it reads exactly as it was written - JUST BLURTED OUT, and as such is hanging in some strange liminal middleground between sanity and schizoid rambling.
It's that 'Is the writer sane?' that fascinates me. He admits that his system for capturing every important thought will bring clarity, but also drive you mad. The intensity of his belief in the process of capturing all of his thoughts also seems to verge on insanity - who on earth in their right mind does try to capture their entire inner life? The obsessive and quixotic nature of the task seems to mark it as being the project of someone in the grip of a compulsion.
The other thing that... prickles about the piece is it's closeness to 'The curious incident of the dog in the night time'. The approach to writing sounds like the voice of the autistic narrator. So, is this fiction? An elaborate hoax? How did the author of 'dog' have such insight into the fractured narrative of an autistic mind? Is there a literature of insanity?
Then, of course, there's the similarity to my current working process. I've spent two months documenting my though processes around building a CMS to run websites - in notebooks (and yes, using a homebrewed annotation system), through mindmaps, on wiki pages, in links through del.icio.us... I'm externalising my thought process in the pursuit of a product. Not the best way to go about it, but the need to hold the entire scope in my head has been overwhelming.
Strangely, I've had long conversations about my need to hold perfectible mental models in my head during various theraphy sessions. So is this a manifestation of the 'mad' side of my personality? The slightly strange and intense bits that make me good with systems and classification, and absolutely terrible at tact?
Who knows. But I think I may abandon my idea for a crazy art project of capturing everything in the world in a taxonomy of my own making, using mind maps. Despite the lure of the fun of the project - and yes, that is my definition of fun - I think the damage it would do to my mental state might not be a good payoff...
It's oddly compelling. Partly because it reads exactly as it was written - JUST BLURTED OUT, and as such is hanging in some strange liminal middleground between sanity and schizoid rambling.
It's that 'Is the writer sane?' that fascinates me. He admits that his system for capturing every important thought will bring clarity, but also drive you mad. The intensity of his belief in the process of capturing all of his thoughts also seems to verge on insanity - who on earth in their right mind does try to capture their entire inner life? The obsessive and quixotic nature of the task seems to mark it as being the project of someone in the grip of a compulsion.
The other thing that... prickles about the piece is it's closeness to 'The curious incident of the dog in the night time'. The approach to writing sounds like the voice of the autistic narrator. So, is this fiction? An elaborate hoax? How did the author of 'dog' have such insight into the fractured narrative of an autistic mind? Is there a literature of insanity?
Then, of course, there's the similarity to my current working process. I've spent two months documenting my though processes around building a CMS to run websites - in notebooks (and yes, using a homebrewed annotation system), through mindmaps, on wiki pages, in links through del.icio.us... I'm externalising my thought process in the pursuit of a product. Not the best way to go about it, but the need to hold the entire scope in my head has been overwhelming.
Strangely, I've had long conversations about my need to hold perfectible mental models in my head during various theraphy sessions. So is this a manifestation of the 'mad' side of my personality? The slightly strange and intense bits that make me good with systems and classification, and absolutely terrible at tact?
Who knows. But I think I may abandon my idea for a crazy art project of capturing everything in the world in a taxonomy of my own making, using mind maps. Despite the lure of the fun of the project - and yes, that is my definition of fun - I think the damage it would do to my mental state might not be a good payoff...
More Peel goodness
Favourite John Peel quotes
Now, I never was a big listener to the Peel Sessions. Mostly because I found all the noise a bit much - not my cup of tea, indie. But I was a big fan of Home Truths.
I am much more Radio 4 than XFM, after all.
Anyway, the reason I loved Home Truths was John Peel's gently cutting good humour.
The page above is more than worth reading.
Now, I never was a big listener to the Peel Sessions. Mostly because I found all the noise a bit much - not my cup of tea, indie. But I was a big fan of Home Truths.
I am much more Radio 4 than XFM, after all.
Anyway, the reason I loved Home Truths was John Peel's gently cutting good humour.
The page above is more than worth reading.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
BBC NEWS | Entertainment | Music | Obituary: John Peel
BBC NEWS | Entertainment | Music | Obituary: John Peel
I'm more upset about John Peel dying than about the death of my great Aunt.
Rock Dad is gone. This is sad. He did feel like a favourite uncle.
I'm more upset about John Peel dying than about the death of my great Aunt.
Rock Dad is gone. This is sad. He did feel like a favourite uncle.
Monday, October 25, 2004
User Education Is Not the Answer to Security Problems (Jakob Nielsen's Alertbox)
User Education Is Not the Answer to Security Problems (Jakob Nielsen's Alertbox)
Do you think Jakob got a virus last week? Or someone went shopping on his credit card?
Certainly the most empassioned and political alertbox I've seen in a while...
Do you think Jakob got a virus last week? Or someone went shopping on his credit card?
Certainly the most empassioned and political alertbox I've seen in a while...
Friday, October 22, 2004
Ironic Bereavement
So, on 3rd October I posted about talking to my Great Aunt, Muriel, about the family photos. The idea was to get some history and 'metadata' about the contents into a useable form before the knowledge was lost.
And I had a lovely encouraging comment from a complete stranger, too.
Guess what?
Muriel died suddenly at about 7.30pm yesterday, at the age of 97. She's the last... She was the last surviving member of that generation of my family.
How fucking ironic.
Bye Muriel. You'll be missed, and you leave many newly-born secrets in your wake.
And I had a lovely encouraging comment from a complete stranger, too.
Guess what?
Muriel died suddenly at about 7.30pm yesterday, at the age of 97. She's the last... She was the last surviving member of that generation of my family.
How fucking ironic.
Bye Muriel. You'll be missed, and you leave many newly-born secrets in your wake.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
A word in your ear
BBC - Radio 4 - Factual Programmes - Homepage
A couple of radio 4 gems this week. Firstly, Bill Bailey on the Theremin - you can't possibly knock a show about retro electronica featuring Manny-moo.
Secondly, a biting criticism of Powerpoint. Nothing I didn't know or suspect anyway, but every manager in the world should be forced to listen to the show.
Loving the 'Fight them on the Beaches' done as a business presentation.
A couple of radio 4 gems this week. Firstly, Bill Bailey on the Theremin - you can't possibly knock a show about retro electronica featuring Manny-moo.
Secondly, a biting criticism of Powerpoint. Nothing I didn't know or suspect anyway, but every manager in the world should be forced to listen to the show.
Loving the 'Fight them on the Beaches' done as a business presentation.
Friday, October 15, 2004
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Slideshows as Mediaplayer Visualisations
Flickr: Forums
I'm just chock stuffed full of insane ideas at the moment.
I'm just chock stuffed full of insane ideas at the moment.
"...a media player visualisation plugin that let me set Flickr slideshows as my visualisation. Could be fairly configurable - allowing the plugin to skip through popular tags and slideshow all the related pics, or display certain people's streams, or, or or... even one that takes a keyword from the title of the song playing and returns a tag-based slideshow for that word..."God, I wish I could code. I'd develop some of these myself...
Human Archives
It's 2 am, and I'm having one of those frantic manic thinking fits. I should have a gin or something.
Anyway, thought the third...
Was just thinking about the metadata issues I posted about a few days ago. And the image of searching through a photolibrary brought Shooting The Past to mind.
If you haven't seen it, do so immediately. If you're working with metadata or archives of any sort, it's a salutatory lesson in 'remembering the value of human quirks'.
Anyway, thought the third...
Was just thinking about the metadata issues I posted about a few days ago. And the image of searching through a photolibrary brought Shooting The Past to mind.
If you haven't seen it, do so immediately. If you're working with metadata or archives of any sort, it's a salutatory lesson in 'remembering the value of human quirks'.
Hear my plea, Oh Lazyweb
Oh, great gods of the Lazyweb, thee who can code in Perl, and C++, and knoweth how to use the command line...
I'm in bookmark hell. I've got two browsers on my work machine, a roaming profile that doesn't update properly, a del.icio.us account, a computer at home with two profiles on it, two CDs with my favourites saved on them, and a backup on a harddrive somewhere; and I'm bored, bored, bored of never having my bookmarks organised properly.
Can someone write a beautiful browser plugin that allows me to...
Please. Before I go mad.
I'm in bookmark hell. I've got two browsers on my work machine, a roaming profile that doesn't update properly, a del.icio.us account, a computer at home with two profiles on it, two CDs with my favourites saved on them, and a backup on a harddrive somewhere; and I'm bored, bored, bored of never having my bookmarks organised properly.
Can someone write a beautiful browser plugin that allows me to...
- Bookmark webpages with tags, like del.icio.us does
- Treat my 'bunch of tagged links' as a time-based linkstream
- Publish a tasty RSS file I can plug into my blog
- Also treat my 'b.o.t.l' as a set of folders, layed out visually, so I can find stuff easily
- Make sure that if a link in the b.o.t.l has more than one tag, it appears in more than one folder
- ... but makes sure links are always kept up to date if I change the URL it points to
- Allows my browsers-plural, of both MSIE and Firefox flavours, to access my b.o.t.l's and display them as if they were my bookmarks/favourites
- Automatically adds links I bookmark/favourite-ize to the b.o.t.l's on the server, and give me the option to tag them like wot I do in del.icio.us
- Synchronise with del.icio.us and bloglines, in a live bookmarks sort of a way.
Please. Before I go mad.
BiblioScrobbler
I'm a huge fan of AudioScrobbler - it's just the niftiest bit of kit imaginable.
It's about to go through a rocky patch tho, because they've introduced moderation based on a rather limited model...
But, anyway, I'm thinking - what would an AudioScrobbler for books do? Presumably if you type in the ISDN number (a unique ID) you could bring up author and title. And from there, you'd have a 'slowscrobbling' system that would track your reading habits over time.
Anyway, follow up how my idea does on the AudioScrobbler fora.
It's about to go through a rocky patch tho, because they've introduced moderation based on a rather limited model...
But, anyway, I'm thinking - what would an AudioScrobbler for books do? Presumably if you type in the ISDN number (a unique ID) you could bring up author and title. And from there, you'd have a 'slowscrobbling' system that would track your reading habits over time.
Anyway, follow up how my idea does on the AudioScrobbler fora.
Sunday, October 10, 2004
Paths not taken
Sigh
These are so lovely. It's beginning to really annoy me that when I see something so brilliantly creative I instantly think 'Why didn't I stick with the art?'
Well, I'm lazy, is all. But seeing enough great stuff like this might kick me into action one day.
These are so lovely. It's beginning to really annoy me that when I see something so brilliantly creative I instantly think 'Why didn't I stick with the art?'
Well, I'm lazy, is all. But seeing enough great stuff like this might kick me into action one day.
Friday, October 08, 2004
Stop with the wanky, Nokia
Nokia - Phone Features - Nokia 7280 - Phone Models - Phones
OK, it's beautiful, and looks like the sort of mobile phone that Rachel in Bladerunner would own.
But GET WITH THE PROGRAMME, Nokia. How on earth am I going to send a text with it? Eh?
I think you'll find that's pretty key to the female target demographic you're going for. You twits.
OK, it's beautiful, and looks like the sort of mobile phone that Rachel in Bladerunner would own.
But GET WITH THE PROGRAMME, Nokia. How on earth am I going to send a text with it? Eh?
I think you'll find that's pretty key to the female target demographic you're going for. You twits.
Monday, October 04, 2004
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Venn Metatopia
Stumbled across an interesting article in this months' Wired - about the importance and difficulty of adding sufficient human readable metadata to digital photos.
A few things strike me about this. First, we're already dealing with this problem in the analogue world. My family is full of really rather good amateur photographers. I've inherited boxes and boxes of slides from aunts, grandmother and parents - and they're full of pictures about which I know no contextual information at all.
One of the projects I must do before my great aunt dies (the last of her generation in my family - currently somewhere in her high nineties, and daft as a brush, in a lovely way) I need to sit with her and do some archiving work: look at objects and photographs in her house, and preserve their stories and histories. For instance, I have an old copy of the Book of Mormon on my shelf - it belonged to my great grandmother, who nearly converted to Mormonism around the turn of the century. She was a nurse, on night duties, and used to fill her time by making the most beautiful, detailed copies of religious postcards in a huge sketchbook. Now, think of the stories behind that - and think of what will be lost from my family's oral history if no-one bothers to record this before she goes...
I sort of want to have some kind of automatic metadata generator for _people_.
Secondly... And back to the photos after that digression; the article only very tangentially mentions Flickr, which I think is a revolutionary service. Why? Because playing with their service, and the way they present 'tags' makes it very quickly clear what the benefits of tagging your pictures can be. OK, tagging is a classification system that is personal, and not based on any kind of agreed vocab... So it might not translate. But when you get a sufficient volume of people adding a few simple tags to photos, you get much more meaningful data.
Add to that tagging the ability for anyone to go and add further tags to refine the classification of a picture according to their personal system, and what you get is effectively a subjective map of the position of the picture in a semantic framework. I think this gets round a whole number of problems one sees with databases, metadata and so on - it allows everyone to sort it in their personalised way, but doesn't favour one system over another, so you get a broad spectrum of meaning around the object being classified. It's the kind of thing that would send a librarian completely potty. But here's why this doesn't matter.
The example given in the wired article, of looking for president Coolidge and some Indians, involves hunting through index cards, then walking into another room, and physically sorting through files. This is the bit that is eliminated by a digital system, and it's also the section of the work that requires absolute pinpoint accuracy - when you're doing that amount of physical labour, you maybe want to check 3 or 4 images before you get your positive 'hit'. But think about using google's image search - often based on the scantiest metadata available. You'll happily flick through four or five pages of 50 images to find the one you're after - because the work just involves clicking a mouse.
There is more room for ambiguity in digital classification systems.
The recursive nature of search - refine- search refine is closer to the way information is organised inside your head - it doesn't have a good analogue in the analog world.
Finally, the article doesn't mention the ESP game - a neat way of using bored five minutes, and people's competitive spirit - to add tags to images. Treat adding metadata as something that is of obvious use, or is a fun activity, and people will be much more inclined to do it. Couple this way of capturing the 'subjective' data with the diary synchronisation, GPS and EXIF data mentioned in the article, and that feeling of bewilderment at a box of physical objects with no context outside the life of the (mortal) creator will be a thing of the past.
A few things strike me about this. First, we're already dealing with this problem in the analogue world. My family is full of really rather good amateur photographers. I've inherited boxes and boxes of slides from aunts, grandmother and parents - and they're full of pictures about which I know no contextual information at all.
One of the projects I must do before my great aunt dies (the last of her generation in my family - currently somewhere in her high nineties, and daft as a brush, in a lovely way) I need to sit with her and do some archiving work: look at objects and photographs in her house, and preserve their stories and histories. For instance, I have an old copy of the Book of Mormon on my shelf - it belonged to my great grandmother, who nearly converted to Mormonism around the turn of the century. She was a nurse, on night duties, and used to fill her time by making the most beautiful, detailed copies of religious postcards in a huge sketchbook. Now, think of the stories behind that - and think of what will be lost from my family's oral history if no-one bothers to record this before she goes...
I sort of want to have some kind of automatic metadata generator for _people_.
Secondly... And back to the photos after that digression; the article only very tangentially mentions Flickr, which I think is a revolutionary service. Why? Because playing with their service, and the way they present 'tags' makes it very quickly clear what the benefits of tagging your pictures can be. OK, tagging is a classification system that is personal, and not based on any kind of agreed vocab... So it might not translate. But when you get a sufficient volume of people adding a few simple tags to photos, you get much more meaningful data.
Add to that tagging the ability for anyone to go and add further tags to refine the classification of a picture according to their personal system, and what you get is effectively a subjective map of the position of the picture in a semantic framework. I think this gets round a whole number of problems one sees with databases, metadata and so on - it allows everyone to sort it in their personalised way, but doesn't favour one system over another, so you get a broad spectrum of meaning around the object being classified. It's the kind of thing that would send a librarian completely potty. But here's why this doesn't matter.
The example given in the wired article, of looking for president Coolidge and some Indians, involves hunting through index cards, then walking into another room, and physically sorting through files. This is the bit that is eliminated by a digital system, and it's also the section of the work that requires absolute pinpoint accuracy - when you're doing that amount of physical labour, you maybe want to check 3 or 4 images before you get your positive 'hit'. But think about using google's image search - often based on the scantiest metadata available. You'll happily flick through four or five pages of 50 images to find the one you're after - because the work just involves clicking a mouse.
There is more room for ambiguity in digital classification systems.
The recursive nature of search - refine- search refine is closer to the way information is organised inside your head - it doesn't have a good analogue in the analog world.
Finally, the article doesn't mention the ESP game - a neat way of using bored five minutes, and people's competitive spirit - to add tags to images. Treat adding metadata as something that is of obvious use, or is a fun activity, and people will be much more inclined to do it. Couple this way of capturing the 'subjective' data with the diary synchronisation, GPS and EXIF data mentioned in the article, and that feeling of bewilderment at a box of physical objects with no context outside the life of the (mortal) creator will be a thing of the past.
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Pictures, Finally
Just got round to uploading pictures of the extraordinary place I stayed on a training course.
The sad thing is that I couldn't get a decent shot of the turf maze, which made me very happy...
The sad thing is that I couldn't get a decent shot of the turf maze, which made me very happy...
AskOxford: What are the plurals of 'octopus', 'hippopotamus', 'syllabus'?
AskOxford: What are the plurals of 'octopus', 'hippopotamus', 'syllabus'?: "Octopus is not a simple Latin word of the second declension, but a Latinized form of the Greek word oktopous, and its 'correct' plural would logically be octopodes. "
This makes me very happy
This makes me very happy
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Towards Semipermeable Blogging
An interesting paper on privacy and blogging by the coder fired from Friendster (apparently) for blogging.
Raises some interesting philosophical points about the 'exposed privacy' of blogs (hello, andrew...) and the need for controll through centralised apps...
Raises some interesting philosophical points about the 'exposed privacy' of blogs (hello, andrew...) and the need for controll through centralised apps...
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
Monday, September 27, 2004
The sacrifice of war is killing
Via Neil Gaiman, an amazing piece by Stephen Fry about what the sacrifice of war is; not giving your life for your country, but not being the moral choice about whether or not you may kill.
Read it. And because this story, that Neil G refers to, might dissappear into the depths of the Google Cache, I've taken the priviledge of ripping it off. Because stories like this should never, ever be forgotten.
"He joined up and was sent to France, where he drilled with a spade and in civilian clothes because that was all they had. When the Army discovered that Pilkington spoke passable Norwegian, having learned at night school, he was recruited into military intelligence and sent to what was then the Ringway Airport near Manchester for parachute training. Soon, Pilkington found himself in the Norwegian campaign with the task of testing the extent of enemy infiltration into local Norwegian society.
Killing was not what Pilkington had in mind on a spring morning in 1940 as he and a colleague, Jim Beech, walked along a country lane approaching the small town of Bodo. Both were dressed in what somebody in an office back home had said was correct Norwegian clothing. An elderly, grey-haired lady with a pleasant smile approached them. "Good morning," she said, in English. "I think that you are British, is that so?"
"Yes," Pilkington replied.
"I can always tell the British. If you will come to my house, I will give you breakfast. We are allies in this terrible thing that has happened to my country. Come with me."
The woman led them to her house in which was her son, a teenager. "Ingvald," said the nice lady in Norwegian. "These are British spies. Go out and telephone the SS that we have them here."
Ingvald began to put on his boots.
"Do you have a toilet?" said Beech.
"My boy will show you," said their hostess. Then, to Ingvald, "Show him, then get off quickly."
Beech followed the youth round to the rear of the house. There he drew his knife and, with a swift, professional thrust, stabbed Ingvald through the back and into the heart.
In the kitchen, the lady turned from the stove and Pilkington said in Norwegian: "Madam, you should have found out first whether we spoke your language." Drawing his revolver, he shot her as Beech returned wiping his knife. In later years, whenever he was asked if he had killed anyone in the war, Pilkington would reply: "Yes, I shot a nice old lady who was just going to give me breakfast."
William (Bill) Pilkington, actor and army officer: born Wallasey, Cheshire 9 December 1916; BEM 1989; died Altrincham, Cheshire 24 August 2004.
Read it. And because this story, that Neil G refers to, might dissappear into the depths of the Google Cache, I've taken the priviledge of ripping it off. Because stories like this should never, ever be forgotten.
"He joined up and was sent to France, where he drilled with a spade and in civilian clothes because that was all they had. When the Army discovered that Pilkington spoke passable Norwegian, having learned at night school, he was recruited into military intelligence and sent to what was then the Ringway Airport near Manchester for parachute training. Soon, Pilkington found himself in the Norwegian campaign with the task of testing the extent of enemy infiltration into local Norwegian society.
Killing was not what Pilkington had in mind on a spring morning in 1940 as he and a colleague, Jim Beech, walked along a country lane approaching the small town of Bodo. Both were dressed in what somebody in an office back home had said was correct Norwegian clothing. An elderly, grey-haired lady with a pleasant smile approached them. "Good morning," she said, in English. "I think that you are British, is that so?"
"Yes," Pilkington replied.
"I can always tell the British. If you will come to my house, I will give you breakfast. We are allies in this terrible thing that has happened to my country. Come with me."
The woman led them to her house in which was her son, a teenager. "Ingvald," said the nice lady in Norwegian. "These are British spies. Go out and telephone the SS that we have them here."
Ingvald began to put on his boots.
"Do you have a toilet?" said Beech.
"My boy will show you," said their hostess. Then, to Ingvald, "Show him, then get off quickly."
Beech followed the youth round to the rear of the house. There he drew his knife and, with a swift, professional thrust, stabbed Ingvald through the back and into the heart.
In the kitchen, the lady turned from the stove and Pilkington said in Norwegian: "Madam, you should have found out first whether we spoke your language." Drawing his revolver, he shot her as Beech returned wiping his knife. In later years, whenever he was asked if he had killed anyone in the war, Pilkington would reply: "Yes, I shot a nice old lady who was just going to give me breakfast."
William (Bill) Pilkington, actor and army officer: born Wallasey, Cheshire 9 December 1916; BEM 1989; died Altrincham, Cheshire 24 August 2004.
BBC - Radio 4 - The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
BBC - Radio 4 - The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Well, I've finally got round to listening to the new Hitchhikers. It had to be done in a quiet moment in the office, because my home connection is just too poor.
Well, I'm not eleven any more, so the fannish fervour with which it should be greeted is tempered somewhat.
But it was worth it, just for the matresses. I'd completely forgotten about them, which is odd, because they were just my favourite, favourite thing about the books originally. They're that perfectly balanced Adams-ian whimsy mixed with fake science that endears his writing to me.
The sad thing is the tone of the cast. They've grown up, as folk are wont to do, in the intervening 20 years. I had such an enormous crush on Trillian when I heard the originals, and now she sounds like she should be advertising oxo. It's a bit like the 'working out what old ladies looked like when they were 20' game I play on the bus - you can hear the ghosts of the young voice in the vintage, mature tones of the cast. It gives the whole production a kind of aspic-held nostalgia - as though all of us are getting older and holding on to this ephemeral pleasure. Whilst the voices have improved with age... like some kind of expensive cheese, or something, it makes listening to what is basically a twentysomething having a poke at funky Islington disco society sound a bit too po-faced.
I hope we don't end up mummifying HHG, in the way that Dr Who was preserved in stasis for so long, never allowed to become a historical curio.
So, overall, it's rather better than I was expecting. Not enough Terry Riley in the background music*. Slightly laboured thing about the guide going on the fritz, but actually I liked the fact it suddenly spliced back in to the Proper Book Voice we know and love. But, you know...
A good thing.
So, anyway, I've got a funny old relationship with the guide here at the beeb. I'm sure it was fundamental to me ending up working here, as it was the first media phenomenon I got passionate about. It kicked off my fascination with electronic music. One of my first bosses - who got me in to t'internet - was one of the people cutting tape off the spools when it jammed half an hour before broadcast in the early 80s. It gave me my first solo website build. It gave me my second TV credit, as a thanks in the tribute to Douglas made for Omnibus just after he died. It gave me my first experience of professional three-camera OB directing - and first proper bit of producing work - when I had the privilege of running the webcast of Douglas' memorial service.
And, luckily lovely Roger at Radio4 interactive has just confirmed that Yes, it was my idea to get Rod Lord in to do the illustrations for the remaking of the computer game.
Please imagine me elaborately thumbing my nose at all of the cool kids at school who laughed at me for turning up dressed as Ford Prefect on Red Nose Day.
(Wanders off to bask in smug self-satisfaction...)
*Dirk Maggs and Wix Wickens, if you ever read this, get Boards of Canada and Mum in for the next one. And Dirk, get a haircut, you look ridiculous.
Well, I've finally got round to listening to the new Hitchhikers. It had to be done in a quiet moment in the office, because my home connection is just too poor.
Well, I'm not eleven any more, so the fannish fervour with which it should be greeted is tempered somewhat.
But it was worth it, just for the matresses. I'd completely forgotten about them, which is odd, because they were just my favourite, favourite thing about the books originally. They're that perfectly balanced Adams-ian whimsy mixed with fake science that endears his writing to me.
The sad thing is the tone of the cast. They've grown up, as folk are wont to do, in the intervening 20 years. I had such an enormous crush on Trillian when I heard the originals, and now she sounds like she should be advertising oxo. It's a bit like the 'working out what old ladies looked like when they were 20' game I play on the bus - you can hear the ghosts of the young voice in the vintage, mature tones of the cast. It gives the whole production a kind of aspic-held nostalgia - as though all of us are getting older and holding on to this ephemeral pleasure. Whilst the voices have improved with age... like some kind of expensive cheese, or something, it makes listening to what is basically a twentysomething having a poke at funky Islington disco society sound a bit too po-faced.
I hope we don't end up mummifying HHG, in the way that Dr Who was preserved in stasis for so long, never allowed to become a historical curio.
So, overall, it's rather better than I was expecting. Not enough Terry Riley in the background music*. Slightly laboured thing about the guide going on the fritz, but actually I liked the fact it suddenly spliced back in to the Proper Book Voice we know and love. But, you know...
A good thing.
So, anyway, I've got a funny old relationship with the guide here at the beeb. I'm sure it was fundamental to me ending up working here, as it was the first media phenomenon I got passionate about. It kicked off my fascination with electronic music. One of my first bosses - who got me in to t'internet - was one of the people cutting tape off the spools when it jammed half an hour before broadcast in the early 80s. It gave me my first solo website build. It gave me my second TV credit, as a thanks in the tribute to Douglas made for Omnibus just after he died. It gave me my first experience of professional three-camera OB directing - and first proper bit of producing work - when I had the privilege of running the webcast of Douglas' memorial service.
And, luckily lovely Roger at Radio4 interactive has just confirmed that Yes, it was my idea to get Rod Lord in to do the illustrations for the remaking of the computer game.
Please imagine me elaborately thumbing my nose at all of the cool kids at school who laughed at me for turning up dressed as Ford Prefect on Red Nose Day.
(Wanders off to bask in smug self-satisfaction...)
*Dirk Maggs and Wix Wickens, if you ever read this, get Boards of Canada and Mum in for the next one. And Dirk, get a haircut, you look ridiculous.
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Glitter For Brains
Glitter For Brains: " go to the toilet and employ The Hitler Piss: a manoeuvre where you position yourself at the urinal and extend your left hand in the Nazi salute to the wall in order to steady yourself. "
Lee got howwibwy dwunk. And has come up with the best neologism I've heard in ages.
Now, back to _my_ hangover...
Lee got howwibwy dwunk. And has come up with the best neologism I've heard in ages.
Now, back to _my_ hangover...
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
Baked Apples
eBay item 2264682789 (Ends 31-Aug-04 21:16:36 BST) - Unique Apple Macintosh circa 1987 in molten state
It really is. It's an Apple Classic that survived a fire, and STILL BOOTS UP.
It looks like Dali's computer.
It really is. It's an Apple Classic that survived a fire, and STILL BOOTS UP.
It looks like Dali's computer.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Burn the presses!
picturephoning.com: Teachers Union in Ireland wants camera phone ban for schools: "The union has said the phones may be used to compromise the personal integrity of students or teachers or for bullying and intimidation and could transmit pornography.'"
Yes. And so can a pen and paper. Or a magazine. Or a human voice.
Why are people so scared? Do we still believe that these cameras steal a tiny portion of our souls?
Yes. And so can a pen and paper. Or a magazine. Or a human voice.
Why are people so scared? Do we still believe that these cameras steal a tiny portion of our souls?
Monday, September 20, 2004
Anatomiae
Anatomiae
Just found a fantastic live journal of anatomical pictures.
Should point out, that besides my gentle obsession with household paraphenalia, I'm also quietly obsessed wuth anatomical drawing, and art based thereon.
So this is yummy. You of the nervous dispositions may want to look away.
Just found a fantastic live journal of anatomical pictures.
Should point out, that besides my gentle obsession with household paraphenalia, I'm also quietly obsessed wuth anatomical drawing, and art based thereon.
So this is yummy. You of the nervous dispositions may want to look away.
Lucky Mr Belam`
Communication equipment in the disused signal cabin at Loughton Station,
originally uploaded by currybet.
Martin B, a lovely workmate, made the best of it - he visited excitingly disused but nonetheless fascinationg bits of the tube system. Check out his photos.
It was kind of ameliorated by being allowed to watch two Fred Dibnah programmes in bed on saturday morning, and two 'Seven Wonders of the industrial age'-es on sunday night. Which featured Mr Bazalgettes sewers, and the fantastic pumping station at shellness.
Monday, September 13, 2004
Awful Plastic Surgery
Awful Plastic Surgery
Oh, oh, oh, the Heat reader in me (and, I hasten to add, it's very well hidden) is just loving this site. Marvel at collagen gone wrong. Learn about the hithertoo under-rated problem of capsular contracture. Yum!
Oh, oh, oh, the Heat reader in me (and, I hasten to add, it's very well hidden) is just loving this site. Marvel at collagen gone wrong. Learn about the hithertoo under-rated problem of capsular contracture. Yum!
Elements of User Experience
A very nice diagram: it lays out all of the aspects of site building and IA in a really beautifully simple way.
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
O! M! G!
The Science Museum is opening up it's storeroom for public tours.
To say I am frothing at the mouth about this would be an understatement of gargantuan proportions. This, as far as I'm concerned, will be the visual and intellectual version of heaven. I pray they let you take your time and take many photos: I can't begin to imagine the gorgeous sites in there.
One of my favourite features of the science museum is the small display of domestic technology in the basement. I developed an obsession with outmoded household appliances during my degree - it started as an interesting and emblematic way to express feelings about my relationship with my mother, and some kind of burgeoning post-feminist commentary on the lost history of the home... And I just fell in love with Bakelite curves and chrome. Added to that, the sheer substantiating of old appliances is lovely. My mother still uses a 1960s fridge and hairdryer (I have a suspicion they may have been wedding presents...). I'm also stupidly over attached to kitchen equipment I've inherited from her, and my grandmother.
Note to self - I must continue my series of drawings.
Anyhoo... Yes, I'm very excited. And I'm booking my tour immediately, and taking every bloody camera I own.
That's four cameras, in case you were wondering.
To say I am frothing at the mouth about this would be an understatement of gargantuan proportions. This, as far as I'm concerned, will be the visual and intellectual version of heaven. I pray they let you take your time and take many photos: I can't begin to imagine the gorgeous sites in there.
One of my favourite features of the science museum is the small display of domestic technology in the basement. I developed an obsession with outmoded household appliances during my degree - it started as an interesting and emblematic way to express feelings about my relationship with my mother, and some kind of burgeoning post-feminist commentary on the lost history of the home... And I just fell in love with Bakelite curves and chrome. Added to that, the sheer substantiating of old appliances is lovely. My mother still uses a 1960s fridge and hairdryer (I have a suspicion they may have been wedding presents...). I'm also stupidly over attached to kitchen equipment I've inherited from her, and my grandmother.
Note to self - I must continue my series of drawings.
Anyhoo... Yes, I'm very excited. And I'm booking my tour immediately, and taking every bloody camera I own.
That's four cameras, in case you were wondering.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
It's in the trees...
GTAForums.com -> I found a digital camera in the woods
Via Mr. Coates - a forum post from a chap who found a lost digital camera, with some beautifully eerie pictures in the memory.
Feels like the start of a superior teen horror flick.
Oh, on another note - things I've just found out. The site that showed all of the pictures of the GI's coffins fresh from the gulf? It's named after the slot in which you dumped paperwork in 1984 - the Memory Hole...
Via Mr. Coates - a forum post from a chap who found a lost digital camera, with some beautifully eerie pictures in the memory.
Feels like the start of a superior teen horror flick.
Oh, on another note - things I've just found out. The site that showed all of the pictures of the GI's coffins fresh from the gulf? It's named after the slot in which you dumped paperwork in 1984 - the Memory Hole...
Friday, August 20, 2004
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Birthday Party Goody Bags
So, went to the Cliterati 4th Birthday last night.
It was a rather extraordinary do, all in all.
Not because it was outrageous - hell, the stripperonly got down to a babydoll nightie, and the human canape platters were wearing pants - but because of the strange mix of people, and of corporate sponsorship.
Admittedly, some of the scruffier buggers were in my party, and there was a slight element of liggery, but... it was the rather lovely elderly couple in dinner dress. And the young chap in brown biker boots, a Vivienne Westwood tshirt, a suit jacket and a padded sun vizor.
Sir, whoever you are, you look like an utter cock.
I know that a lot of the point for the lovely Miss Dubberly was to promote her book, her site, and various other commercial ventures. And that's cool. But sweet christ, what poor products decided to promote themselves around her success.
Sarah and I sat excitedly on the bus, furtively taking inventory of our take-home goody bags, and eating sweeties. Sadly, my bottle of moisturising lube had exploded in the bottom of the bag, so my pack of strawberry gummi lips were deemed inedible.
(And yes, I know that lube is specially made to be edible and taste nice; frankly, it doesn't. Especially the flavoured stuff. Never, never use Pina Colada flavoured lube. It tastes terrible, and has too much sugar in it, which is a very elegant way to give yourself thrush.)
The excitement on unpacking - two! two! vibrators! Porn! on!DVD! A big! bottle! of lube! A book! Clitoral! Stimulators! - slightly paled when we investigated the products more thoroughly. The huge bottle of lube turned out to be a poncy bottle of buxton spring water. The porn, despite being shot by a girl (hurrah, applause, good thing, etc) was absolutely terrible. Maybe I've been spolit by two many high quality gay productions, but... at least invest in some lighting. And show us a cock without a strange 15 minute 'acting' preamble. And, you know, I don't actually mind more than a strand of public hair.
And the vibrators. Well.
Both hard cased, one 'micro-bullett' with a remote control, one conventional. Now, if you're designing a hard-case plastic vibrator meant for... well, penetration, don't design battery access involving twisiting it appart half way down the shaft. Why? Well, you get a sharp ridge of flashed plastic running around the circumference of the vibe. This causes all kind of exciting internal injuries; this was something I learnt many years ago, and had no desire to repeat last night.
Also, don't choose an uncommon battery type, or an odd number. No-one has 3 AAA batteries lying around the place, and there's nothing more annoying than getting a vibe home and not having sufficient juice. Ahem. There's also something a bit irritating about poor battery fit - putting in one of your precious rechargeable batteries (and yes, this is exactly the reason we have a big battery charger in the house) only to discover it's irretrievably stuck, and the spring has contracted too far to make a proper connection.
And then... volume. We got one of the minivibes up and running, and played with it's seven variable pulsing patterns. It sounded like a magimix with epilepsy, or possibly a small motorboat in trouble on the river. And... well, intensity. I'm all for a good strong buzz, but not one that is going vaporise your clit in under thirty seconds in some kind of genital sanding apocalypse.
The lesson from all of this? Well, both products were marked as being reccomended by Cosmopolitain. So, never, ever trust Cosmo for good advice about a vibrator. It's that simple.
I'm sure there's more. Possibly something about the 'Black Porn by Black Writers' that was written in transliterated Jamaican Patois, and seemed to have booze and coke on every page I flicked to. Possibly something about the oil for increacing labial bloodflow that smelt exactly like Juicy Fruit Gum, and faded to smell exactly like sump-oil. But frankly, I'm just a bit too depressed by the state of the smut industry to go on.
Poor Emily. She's a brilliant person, runs a great site, and is a wonderful sex-positive activist. But she's beeing badly let down by her sponsors.
Nice cocktail frock, tho.
It was a rather extraordinary do, all in all.
Not because it was outrageous - hell, the stripperonly got down to a babydoll nightie, and the human canape platters were wearing pants - but because of the strange mix of people, and of corporate sponsorship.
Admittedly, some of the scruffier buggers were in my party, and there was a slight element of liggery, but... it was the rather lovely elderly couple in dinner dress. And the young chap in brown biker boots, a Vivienne Westwood tshirt, a suit jacket and a padded sun vizor.
Sir, whoever you are, you look like an utter cock.
I know that a lot of the point for the lovely Miss Dubberly was to promote her book, her site, and various other commercial ventures. And that's cool. But sweet christ, what poor products decided to promote themselves around her success.
Sarah and I sat excitedly on the bus, furtively taking inventory of our take-home goody bags, and eating sweeties. Sadly, my bottle of moisturising lube had exploded in the bottom of the bag, so my pack of strawberry gummi lips were deemed inedible.
(And yes, I know that lube is specially made to be edible and taste nice; frankly, it doesn't. Especially the flavoured stuff. Never, never use Pina Colada flavoured lube. It tastes terrible, and has too much sugar in it, which is a very elegant way to give yourself thrush.)
The excitement on unpacking - two! two! vibrators! Porn! on!DVD! A big! bottle! of lube! A book! Clitoral! Stimulators! - slightly paled when we investigated the products more thoroughly. The huge bottle of lube turned out to be a poncy bottle of buxton spring water. The porn, despite being shot by a girl (hurrah, applause, good thing, etc) was absolutely terrible. Maybe I've been spolit by two many high quality gay productions, but... at least invest in some lighting. And show us a cock without a strange 15 minute 'acting' preamble. And, you know, I don't actually mind more than a strand of public hair.
And the vibrators. Well.
Both hard cased, one 'micro-bullett' with a remote control, one conventional. Now, if you're designing a hard-case plastic vibrator meant for... well, penetration, don't design battery access involving twisiting it appart half way down the shaft. Why? Well, you get a sharp ridge of flashed plastic running around the circumference of the vibe. This causes all kind of exciting internal injuries; this was something I learnt many years ago, and had no desire to repeat last night.
Also, don't choose an uncommon battery type, or an odd number. No-one has 3 AAA batteries lying around the place, and there's nothing more annoying than getting a vibe home and not having sufficient juice. Ahem. There's also something a bit irritating about poor battery fit - putting in one of your precious rechargeable batteries (and yes, this is exactly the reason we have a big battery charger in the house) only to discover it's irretrievably stuck, and the spring has contracted too far to make a proper connection.
And then... volume. We got one of the minivibes up and running, and played with it's seven variable pulsing patterns. It sounded like a magimix with epilepsy, or possibly a small motorboat in trouble on the river. And... well, intensity. I'm all for a good strong buzz, but not one that is going vaporise your clit in under thirty seconds in some kind of genital sanding apocalypse.
The lesson from all of this? Well, both products were marked as being reccomended by Cosmopolitain. So, never, ever trust Cosmo for good advice about a vibrator. It's that simple.
I'm sure there's more. Possibly something about the 'Black Porn by Black Writers' that was written in transliterated Jamaican Patois, and seemed to have booze and coke on every page I flicked to. Possibly something about the oil for increacing labial bloodflow that smelt exactly like Juicy Fruit Gum, and faded to smell exactly like sump-oil. But frankly, I'm just a bit too depressed by the state of the smut industry to go on.
Poor Emily. She's a brilliant person, runs a great site, and is a wonderful sex-positive activist. But she's beeing badly let down by her sponsors.
Nice cocktail frock, tho.
Change Tracking
Stumbled across this. It's a rather interesting way of visualising changes to complex documents, based on changes to the Wikipaedia.
I'm impressed, but the output is just so... dense.
I'm impressed, but the output is just so... dense.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
IF Movie=poor THEN Satire=brilliant
The fabulous Lee has outdone himself. I didn't have much of a desire to go and see iRobot. I now don't need to, having read Lee's sarky rendition on his blog.
Monday, August 09, 2004
Bliss and Torture.
An exciting and fun weekend. Feeling very much back to my old self after six months of black dog. The drugs do work.
So, why so much back to myself? Well, Saturday was the kind of day I used to have when I was single. There's a lovely sense of acheivement when you've got a great relationship ticking along (with the requisite work being put into it) but you're able to go off for a day and behave exacly as you would when most yourself.
I have a habit of over-involving myself in my relationships, and come out of them with that rather sad feeling of having mislaid an aspect of myself for the duration. With the fiance, I know it's for good - so I have no excuses, I have to do that extra work and negotiate time and space for solitude in the couple. And saturday was the first time I've successfully done that. Ever.
So, after a trip around soho, shopping (result - a Ukulele, a ukulele chord book, three books from Magma (good girl, only three...), a big handful of cheap CDs from Fopp and a Lomographic Super Sampler camera), some sushi, and a good half hour spent contemplating the idea of going to a gallery (I didn't - it was too far to walk in the heat by that stage) I felt recharged. And then had the lovely coincidence of ending up on the same bus as my beloved on the way home.
And then, to Torture Garden together in the evening. I know that I won't be believed if I tell you, dear readers, that it's actually all rather charming and innocent. But it is. I love the place for its friendliness, great music, and utterly fabulous costumes. Oh, and the opportunity to stare at people doing odd things to each other on St Andrews Crosses, of course. But, hey, I'm pretty mundane in most other aspects of my life - allow me a few pecadilloes.
Highlight of the evening - meeting a man called Viking - really, he was christened that - who had a beard, and liked Mead.
I wonder about writing up the odder fetish-scene aspects of my life here. For one, far too many PeopleFromTheOffice know the URL, and I have enough of a reputation
So, rather than explicit description, I'll leave you with the contents of an email newsletter inviting me to a summer garden party that arrived this morning. Please note that I find this as funny, pathetic and absurd as you will.
PROGRAMME
2pm Pool Bar Opens
Finger Buffet and snacks
Beers, wines, alcopops, Pimms and soft drinks served
Outdoor heated pool and places to sunbathe and socialise
4pm Fetish Olympics
6 Teams led by Mistresses and Masters will compete for Gold, Silver and
Bronze Medals. There will be one overall winning team
The Fetish Olympics will be video'd this year so please let us know if you
want to be a Movie Star or not. We are directing the filming and will be
managing the editing so will ensure that people who do not wish to be
included are not. There will be a set area for the filming so it is clear
where you can watch from if you don't wish to be in the video.
6.30pm BBQ
Tropical Rum Punch served as well as beers, wines, alcopops and soft drinks
9pm * 10.30pm * Midnight - Entertainment by The Fetish Crew
Other features:
Bouncy Castle * Dungeon Play Room * Trampling Frame
BDSM equipment by the lake, under the oak tree and on the lawn
Sexual Play Room * Massage * Dance Floor * Love Swings * Chill out areas
DJs - Baz, Simon, Irish Pete
Rude Food - Chocolate and Fruit Extravaganza
Three Things:
Finger Buffet, Bouncy Castle, Misplaced Apostrope.
Sigh.
So, why so much back to myself? Well, Saturday was the kind of day I used to have when I was single. There's a lovely sense of acheivement when you've got a great relationship ticking along (with the requisite work being put into it) but you're able to go off for a day and behave exacly as you would when most yourself.
I have a habit of over-involving myself in my relationships, and come out of them with that rather sad feeling of having mislaid an aspect of myself for the duration. With the fiance, I know it's for good - so I have no excuses, I have to do that extra work and negotiate time and space for solitude in the couple. And saturday was the first time I've successfully done that. Ever.
So, after a trip around soho, shopping (result - a Ukulele, a ukulele chord book, three books from Magma (good girl, only three...), a big handful of cheap CDs from Fopp and a Lomographic Super Sampler camera), some sushi, and a good half hour spent contemplating the idea of going to a gallery (I didn't - it was too far to walk in the heat by that stage) I felt recharged. And then had the lovely coincidence of ending up on the same bus as my beloved on the way home.
And then, to Torture Garden together in the evening. I know that I won't be believed if I tell you, dear readers, that it's actually all rather charming and innocent. But it is. I love the place for its friendliness, great music, and utterly fabulous costumes. Oh, and the opportunity to stare at people doing odd things to each other on St Andrews Crosses, of course. But, hey, I'm pretty mundane in most other aspects of my life - allow me a few pecadilloes.
Highlight of the evening - meeting a man called Viking - really, he was christened that - who had a beard, and liked Mead.
I wonder about writing up the odder fetish-scene aspects of my life here. For one, far too many PeopleFromTheOffice know the URL, and I have enough of a reputation
So, rather than explicit description, I'll leave you with the contents of an email newsletter inviting me to a summer garden party that arrived this morning. Please note that I find this as funny, pathetic and absurd as you will.
PROGRAMME
2pm Pool Bar Opens
Finger Buffet and snacks
Beers, wines, alcopops, Pimms and soft drinks served
Outdoor heated pool and places to sunbathe and socialise
4pm Fetish Olympics
6 Teams led by Mistresses and Masters will compete for Gold, Silver and
Bronze Medals. There will be one overall winning team
The Fetish Olympics will be video'd this year so please let us know if you
want to be a Movie Star or not. We are directing the filming and will be
managing the editing so will ensure that people who do not wish to be
included are not. There will be a set area for the filming so it is clear
where you can watch from if you don't wish to be in the video.
6.30pm BBQ
Tropical Rum Punch served as well as beers, wines, alcopops and soft drinks
9pm * 10.30pm * Midnight - Entertainment by The Fetish Crew
Other features:
Bouncy Castle * Dungeon Play Room * Trampling Frame
BDSM equipment by the lake, under the oak tree and on the lawn
Sexual Play Room * Massage * Dance Floor * Love Swings * Chill out areas
DJs - Baz, Simon, Irish Pete
Rude Food - Chocolate and Fruit Extravaganza
Three Things:
Finger Buffet, Bouncy Castle, Misplaced Apostrope.
Sigh.
Friday, August 06, 2004
Gay TV
Well.
I'm not entirely sure about LOGO, the gay TV channel from MTV.
Actually, I am sure about it. Just, no. They make a pitch in their press release about the diversity of the gay community etc.
But... if we're that diverse, why on earth should we be interested in the insignifant linking theme of gayness?
That's not put very well at all. But my basic feeling is that, to be honest, I'm not interested in someone just because they're gay. I'm interested just because they're interesting.
I can imagine nothing worse than limiting my TV viewing to Will and Grace, Queer Eye and reruns of Oranges are Not the Only Fruit.
Well, yes, I can. Limiting my TV viewing to football. But, you know...
I'm not entirely sure about LOGO, the gay TV channel from MTV.
Actually, I am sure about it. Just, no. They make a pitch in their press release about the diversity of the gay community etc.
But... if we're that diverse, why on earth should we be interested in the insignifant linking theme of gayness?
That's not put very well at all. But my basic feeling is that, to be honest, I'm not interested in someone just because they're gay. I'm interested just because they're interesting.
I can imagine nothing worse than limiting my TV viewing to Will and Grace, Queer Eye and reruns of Oranges are Not the Only Fruit.
Well, yes, I can. Limiting my TV viewing to football. But, you know...
Thursday, August 05, 2004
Lovely News
Just found my faith in three of my workmates utterly vindicated by them being offered either their own job, or the job above them.
I am very, very proud of them.
And also secretly relieved that my choices of staff weren't too far off beam.
And relieved that none of them will be getting a letter like this.
I am very, very proud of them.
And also secretly relieved that my choices of staff weren't too far off beam.
And relieved that none of them will be getting a letter like this.
Friday, July 30, 2004
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
House of Apology Pits Survey
House of Apology Pits Survey
Furry pits on ladies - yay or nay? And what does it say about you?
Very, very amusing. Although I think I may find Worf more attractive than blondes.
Furry pits on ladies - yay or nay? And what does it say about you?
Very, very amusing. Although I think I may find Worf more attractive than blondes.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Wonderland: Feng Shui motherboard
Wonderland: Feng Shui motherboard
Aaah, gorgeous. Alice has a wonderfully charming attitude to technology that is entirely humanistic.
I love that these guys are actually living the old adage that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishambe from magic.
Aaah, gorgeous. Alice has a wonderfully charming attitude to technology that is entirely humanistic.
I love that these guys are actually living the old adage that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishambe from magic.
Monday, July 26, 2004
London Underground - Tube maps
London Underground - Tube maps are a bit of an obsession (well, along with 50% of other London based bloggers, it seems.
So the little flash animation on the LT site that morphs between the 33 map, the current map, and the geographical reality ROCKS.
So the little flash animation on the LT site that morphs between the 33 map, the current map, and the geographical reality ROCKS.
Monday, July 19, 2004
lemonjellysomersethousepromo
lemonjellysomersethousepromo
Aha! A track listing!
Funny, I was sure that was Winnifred Atwell, not Russ Conway...
Aha! A track listing!
Funny, I was sure that was Winnifred Atwell, not Russ Conway...
Chemical Warfare
This is your army on Drugs.
Rather fantastic footage of tests into LSD - looks like the late 40s to me.
Lovely.
Rather fantastic footage of tests into LSD - looks like the late 40s to me.
Lovely.
Friday, July 16, 2004
Vintage electrical
Vintage electrical - found this via Lee's blogroll.
That? That's my mum's hairdryer, that is.
I wonder wha it's worth on ebay?
I think I may take up collecting vintage electrical stuff, too.
That? That's my mum's hairdryer, that is.
I wonder wha it's worth on ebay?
I think I may take up collecting vintage electrical stuff, too.
Ducking and Jiving
A rather super trip to see Lemon Jelly live at Sommerset house last night. The usual Jelly fun - Play your Cards Right, and a free CD to take home.
The leaping about at the gig was puncutated by a text conversation with Sarah at home, which I've decided to preserve...
S: Custard is not an explosive
K: No. But custard POWDER is
S: What did we do wrong? Yucky burnt custard smell.
K: Try blowing it across a naked flame
S: Kaboom.
K: I'm going to be the first person to lose a fiance in a hideous custard related accident
S: Wahahaha...
(pause)
S: Bwh-ha-haa! Pyrocustard!
K: Um, where's the cat?
S: Buy cat wig.
The leaping about at the gig was puncutated by a text conversation with Sarah at home, which I've decided to preserve...
S: Custard is not an explosive
K: No. But custard POWDER is
S: What did we do wrong? Yucky burnt custard smell.
K: Try blowing it across a naked flame
S: Kaboom.
K: I'm going to be the first person to lose a fiance in a hideous custard related accident
S: Wahahaha...
(pause)
S: Bwh-ha-haa! Pyrocustard!
K: Um, where's the cat?
S: Buy cat wig.
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
Comments from strangers
Comments from strangers on this here blog are a new thing for me. The first one I got was more than a tad trollish, and probably part of a general effort to increace someone's standing in the Nigritude Ultramarine SEO challenge. But I'm going to answer it anyway.
It's not that I dislike SEO. I do a lot of SEO work with metadata as a routine part of my job. However, I do it as a public service to help people, not to sell anything.
What I dislike are SEO _Companies_ - the kind of people who charge money for doing things that any good web designer should have done for them in the first place, and pollute search engines with pointless results.
I'm a big beleiver in the semantic web, and best practice for metadata. I don't think it does anyone any favours to click through on a result and be taken to a page that is essentially garbage - having your brand or service associated with that kind of activity is ultimately going to damage public perception of that brand.
So, what I dislike is companies charging innocent souls money to perform a service that will ulimately harm their business model, and the polity of the web.
Spam-related SEO techniques just aren't cricket.
The other comment is a lovely passing comment about my NPR post; from someone who knows their onions. I wonder how on earth the nice chap found me?
It's not that I dislike SEO. I do a lot of SEO work with metadata as a routine part of my job. However, I do it as a public service to help people, not to sell anything.
What I dislike are SEO _Companies_ - the kind of people who charge money for doing things that any good web designer should have done for them in the first place, and pollute search engines with pointless results.
I'm a big beleiver in the semantic web, and best practice for metadata. I don't think it does anyone any favours to click through on a result and be taken to a page that is essentially garbage - having your brand or service associated with that kind of activity is ultimately going to damage public perception of that brand.
So, what I dislike is companies charging innocent souls money to perform a service that will ulimately harm their business model, and the polity of the web.
Spam-related SEO techniques just aren't cricket.
The other comment is a lovely passing comment about my NPR post; from someone who knows their onions. I wonder how on earth the nice chap found me?
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Good labels make life better.
Interesting from a usability point of view - and worth thinking about when you're implimenting rich media searches?
This 404 page from the US NPR website has a lovely contextual search - not only allowing you to enter keywords, but search by date and by programme. The thing that seems really usable is the way they've entered text in the search boxes that explains the functions of each in very natural language.
This 404 page from the US NPR website has a lovely contextual search - not only allowing you to enter keywords, but search by date and by programme. The thing that seems really usable is the way they've entered text in the search boxes that explains the functions of each in very natural language.
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