Up and Out (1:40)

June 10, 2008 | Life | Technology

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Approximately one in four odds, depending on your bias

May 19, 2008 | Life

Days can be characterized in one of four ways: Outstanding, Fine, Difficult, and Off.

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FYI

March 28, 2008 | Life | Software | Technology

WinXP (hello, ActiveX) & IE7 (welcome, Acrobat Reader 8.1.2) running Online Quickbooks, via Parallels and Mac OS X running on a MacBook Pro, prints checks no problem on the HP color laser connected via JetDirect and Ethernet. Astounding.

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iPod Makes the NordicTrack Just Barely Tolerable

February 25, 2008 | Life

Headline says it all.

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Thanks Bro

February 4, 2008 | Life | People & Society

Got a helpful Twitter tweet from my brother last night:

@notio: Super Bowl is starting. Just wanted to make sure you know what the rest of the country is doing right now.

Thanks bro – I had a head's up from Fake Steve on Friday...

I noticed that many of the proles seemed to be talking about some big sporting competition that will happen in the next few days. Football, apparently. I don't much care for the game -- I'm more into European sports like cycling and cross-country skiing, and I still think it's outrageous that we don't have tai chi on television in this country the way they do in every country in Asia.

Since I don't have TV reception, I couldn't verify the lack of Tai Chi, or watch the Super Bowl. (But go Pats!)

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Running Out of Ideas?

January 17, 2008 | Arts & Culture | Business & Commerce | Life | Software

Amusing one-line review of Handmeon, pointing to the Boston Globe article:

Handmeon.com is a cool idea, perhaps showing that Web 2.0 entrepreneurs may be running out of ideas.

Well, I laughed out loud. He goes on to say, "Actually, I do think it's a pretty interesting social experiment." Thanks Pito, for taking a look.

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Handmeon Update

January 2, 2008 | Business & Commerce | Life

Here's a status (promotional) update (flogging) on (of) my project (startup) to change the world, Handmeon.

We got great press during the holiday season, including the Boston Globe, Vermont Public Radio, Seven Days, and the Valley News (broken link; left here for posterity).

Jeff had an epiphanette while in dialogue at GiftHub.org which we're discussing internally, and this might lead to some ground-breaking organizational structures.

We received some good traffic from the media, and a good round of registrations. People who like it seem to really like it. We're looking for more members, so stop by, explore a little, and see if it's something that resonates with you.

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See Change, Part 1

December 11, 2007 | Life | Technology

I remember when I started wearing glasses, in third grade (1970). These days I think they test kids a lot younger, but back in the day that was the first test I took and I needed glasses pretty badly. I used to always sit in the last row of class, and on that first day with glasses I went to my normal seat and was amazed when the teacher started on her material.

I couldn't believe it – she was writing stuff on the wall up there!! All this time I thought she was just telling us stuff, I had no idea she was writing things on a "blackboard" and pulling maps down from rollers. Wow.

I told her this at morning break, and she looked at me funny, in a way I ow recognize as disbelief, and moved my seat to the second row, permanently. I forget if it was her or my Dad who said, "No wonder your handwriting is so bad." [And people ask, "How did you decide to study psychoacoustics in college?"]

Today, 37 years later, my prescription was nearly -10 in the right eye and nearly-11 in the left, including some astigmatism in the left eye. If 20/20 is normal" vision, this corresponds to approximately 20/2,000. What other people could see at 2,000 feet, I could only see at 20 feet. The problem with lenses this strong is that the light is distorted by the lens except at the very center. With a strong lens, that center area is very small. So as my eyes scanned across a page of text, the eye would see distorted, then focused, then distorted text. The brain can process it, but it takes more cycles, and it's fatiguing. I used to be the fastest reader I know, these days, not so much.

Of course, there's all the usual reasons why wearing glasses sucks: Raindrops in the rain, fogging up when you walk inside during the winter (six months, here in New Hampshire), and getting smudged with every kiss, etcetera.

So, after five years of occasional research and consideration, last Thursday I had Lasik surgery at Laservue in Montreal. Technically, in their marketing-speak, thin-flap, high-definition, custom-wavefront Lasik. Here's the story.

It's a very modern clinic, on the second floor of a medical office building. The area I saw was about half the floor. It appears they have most of the whole floor, but we weren't in the other half.

I checked in at 1 PM. I gave them the patient consent form, checked my basic information, and gave them my hotel information. After a short wait, a technician took me to what would be the first of six testing and treatment rooms. She started with the CRS-Master wavefront measurement and a standard refractive test. This created a computer map of the topology of each eye, and programs the laser how to do its work. We moved to a second room and she measured the thickness of my cornea (and the curvature too, I think). Then we went to a third room, much like a standard optometrist office, where, in fact, an optometrist conducted the standard subjective eye exam.

After confirming that indeed I was a candidate for surgery (verifying the pre-testing dne by my local eye doctor), and confirming that indeed I would like to have the surgery done, they sent me to billing where I signed the billing release and ran the Visa card. $2,400 Canadian, currently with a ~10% discount rate to the US dollar.

She directed me to a second waiting room, and soon the two doctors came out to have a discussion about my supposed allergy to Proparicaine HCL, a common eye numbing solution. Long story short, they were pretty darn sure I wasn't allergic, but had a vasovagal syncope, common among young men, which is when I was originally diagnosed. They asked a few other questions, nodding and looking at each other knowingly, until one finally said, "Classic." They would put a single drop into each eye and look for a reaction, but didn't expect one.

They took me to another room where a paramedic asked me to lay on the table. I said, "This is it, right? This is probably the last chance to use the bathroom before surgery?" It was happening kind of fast at this point, and it suddenly occurred to me that, you know, there was a certain amount of fear, and, well, peeing my pants would be unfortunate. So I ran off to the restroom, whilst Kathryn, the nurse, and the doctors had a brief laugh. "That's certainly a nervous pee," he said. As it turned out, I'm glad I went.

So then I'm back in pre-op, laying on the table, being told, "Okay, look straight up (drop into each eye), look up toward me [she was standing behind me, at the head of the table] (another drop), look down at your shoes (drop, drop)." This went on for several rounds, and if you go read anything about the Lasik surgery procedure, you will know why they want the eyes good and numb. At one point I was unable to look down at my shoes. I tried, but couldn't seem to do it, and I think at that point they know they've got enough in there.

Next, stand up, a little weirded out by the heavy eye numbing, and the next thing you know I'm laying on the table of the Zeiss MEL-80, an excimer laser.

At this point you can see my sleeve rolled up – they had given me a shot of Atropine, to control that vasovagal syncope, and on the television screen you can just barely make out a close up of one of my eyes under the laser. And how does the laser work, exactly?

Rather than burning or cutting material, the excimer laser adds enough energy to disrupt the molecular bonds of the surface tissue, which effectively disintegrates into the air in a tightly controlled manner through ablation rather than burning. Thus excimer lasers have the useful property that they can remove exceptionally fine layers of surface material with almost no heating or change to the remainder of the material which is left intact.

Here is what I remember of the surgery itself. All of this happened in less than ten minutes, maybe five or six. I lay on the table, and they put the bolster under my knees. The table is motorized and it rotates me under the laser. I get the shot. I am positioned to work on the right eye first. They put a clamp on my eyelid to hold it open. They tell me to look at the green spot – which is actually a wide green pattern, kind of like a snowy TV screen, or a 2D barcode. The nurse says, "Now we will let you hear the sounds of the surgery, so they will be familiar. First, the [name I forgot] will position your eye, then the microkeratome will make a sound [buzzing sound], then, finally, the laser will make a high-pitched sound." The doctor held my head. The second doctor took my pulse. The microkeratome was lowered toward my eye. The nurse called out two numbers, something like, "436, 528." The doctor said, "Lower," which I took to be a confirmation, or a "Go" statement, rather than a directive.The buzzing started. My sight went very blurry. "Keep staring at the center of the green dot." I thought, "No turning back now." Funny time to think that, but whatever. The buzzing stopped. Through blurry vision I saw a clear sheet with a hole in it placed over my eye, probably a sort of bib to protect the eye from debris. The high-pitched sound began.

I did a lot of reading about all this, over five years, but no one, nowhere, told me there would be a smell, like burning hair. So I stopped breathing through my nose.

A few seconds later, at most a minute or two of ablation, the doctor said, "Perfect." The laser stopped, he removed the protective sheet, the flap went back onto my cornea, and he started putting drops in my eye while it sealed in place, which took maybe 10 - 30 seconds. The table repositioned me for left eye treatment, and we began again. The left eye took a bit longer because it was a stronger correction. I was twitchier, and tried to focus on my breathing.

And then, the table moved me out from under the laser, and the doctor said, "Aren't you glad you don't have four eyes?" which is a very funny double entendre, if you think about it. Even at this moment, through blurry, wet eyes, I could tell the light was entering my eyes totally differently.

They walked me across the hall to a typical optometrist setup, and did a close inspection of each eye. My left eye had a 'piece of mucus' he carefully brushed away – this could have been a euphemism for making sure the edge of the flap was not curling up. In any case, he did that, said, "Perfect," and they taped plastic shields over my eyes, which I wore until the next morning. I got some basic instructions, and we walked down the hall, got our coats, and some water, and drove out of the parking lot at about 2 PM, one hour after checking in.

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Quote for the Day

November 18, 2007 | Arts & Culture | Life

"It is by deferring mediocre actions and by being utterly intent on foreseeing the unforeseeable that we prepare ourselves for being thoroughly contradicted by happiness." —Gaston Bachelard, The Dialectic of Duration, pg 63.

The Unbroken Chain blogging fiesta didn't materialize (deferring mediocre actions), but it was a rilly rilly great weekend. I met some fine people who are sure to be long-term friends, and got some positive reaction to the ideas and potentials I put forth. The level of discourse, the warmth of the folk, the awesome power of the music, the fun times – one of the best social weekends in many years. There will be followup.

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Handmeon RSS

October 26, 2007 | Arts & Culture | Life

Handmeon now has an RSS feed. It's a pretty interesting view into the site. Have a look and check out the diverse topics our early users are engaging.

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Beauty parlor's filled with sailors...

September 27, 2007 | Life | People & Society

...the circus is in town.

We had The Big Debate here in the hood last night. Good video summary at TPM.

Complete with our own freedom pens and everything!

It was also the first day of classes, which combined with the media tents, temporary air conditioning, security presence, and pedestrian jostling to wake the whole town up from its summer slumber like some sort of cheery post-hangover alarm clock.

My favorite quote though, came from the private air services firm at the local airport:

As of 5 p.m., Barack Obama had the biggest jet on the tarmac, a Gulfstream II. John Edwards had a Hawker jet on hand. And U.S. Sens. Joe Biden and Chris Dodd flew together from Washington, D.C., in a King Air twin engine plane. Hillary Clinton's plane was due to arrive closer to the 9 p.m. debate.

Ray Reed, a veteran customer service representative for Signal Aviation at the West Lebanon airport, said the lineup of incoming planes were “comparable to any big weekend” at Dartmouth, such as parents weekend.

Gotta love that. These big-shot politicos are no match for Dartmouth parents' airplanes!

Bonus link: Singles will check out eligible candidates at Obama rally

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Introducing Handmeon

August 31, 2007 | Arts & Culture | Life | Products & Opportunites

Okay, enough with the hints. In January I started a new company with two co-founders, and today we released the second major revision to our first product, Handmeon. To quote some draft marketing material:

Handmeon turns giving into a shared creative experience. Inspired by ancient circles of exchange, Handmeon lets people create renewable resources of expression through gifts endowed with history and trajectory, humor and thought. Rejecting material consumption and accumulation, Handmeon seeks a return to giving as a vehicle for human connection.

The basic idea is to take an objet, perhaps something small, perhaps something beautiful, perhaps something with an interesting background, and create an online presence for it. You upload a photo, write an inscription, and make blog posts regarding the object. Eventually you give it away, and the new keeper can write posts and enjoy the objet's sojourn with them. As the object moves between people, you can see the travels with integrated Google maps. After 4 hops, or 20, or 40, the object develops a rich history, accumulating stories online.

In other words, we're playing with the integration and separation of the real-world and the Internet. These objects are passed from one friend to another – when you hold an object you received it from a friend, and you'll give it to a friend, perhaps in person, perhaps by mail. And they'll give it to a friend, perhaps one you haven't yet met. The object becomes a connecting thread between a line of people, all connected one friend to another. I'm hopeful that it will expose the connections and therefore the interdependencies between people who haven't ever met.

You can take a tour, or explore the site to get a sense of what the early adopters are doing. For instance, Kathryn wants to learn more about meditation. Trippy the Frog wants to travel. The Roller just completed a sojourn with Jer. John wrote a post about a brush with celebrity. Jeff went meta, right out of the gate. And so on. You can create public, private, and secret objects.

To make money, we'll sell the permanent tags that turn objects into Handmeons and give them a URL. So the creator buys a tag, and everyone else can claim, post, and release the object for free. Speaking of free, right now the tags are free – so go register and order some! Make some Handmeons! See what it feels like to imbue something with meaning online, and then give it away. Experience the gratitude that this act of generosity engenders. You can create the online Handmeon before your tags arrive, so you can get started right away.

Eventually we'll charge money for the tags. Pricing is not set, but we want it to be affordable, maybe three tags for $12.95 or something. We have to model the object's long-term pageview cost and whatnot, and we haven't finished that yet. Three tags for $19.95 is probably the highest price we can imagine right now.

Of course, there's a blog, newly minted. We're going to try for one solid software release each week for a few weeks. Comments are on over there, and we are actively looking for feedback and enthusiastic participants. Come over and play in this new interaction space!

Oh, and, as a self-funded startup, we're looking for links! Tell your friends. ;) Thanks.

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Yo! This is not cool. WTF.

August 24, 2007 | Life | Nature & Environment

I woke up about 40 minutes after falling asleep, hearing what I thought was a big moth banging against the window screen trying to get in. It went on long enough that I grabbed my flashlight to see what it was. When I turned it on, something whizzed by my head, and I realized the moth was already in the bedroom, and it was trying to get out.

So I got up and put my glasses on and hit the flashlight again to go find the lightswitch, when, lo and behold, the thing flew by me and I realized, it's a bat!!. Uh, okay. I bolted out the door to the hallway, and turned on the hall light.

So now I'm standing there, naked, dazed and confused, in the middle of some decent REM sleep, trying to figure out what to do. Do I have to deal with this now? I'm tired, can I deal with this in the morning? Well, first, let's verify it's a bat, and not just a really big moth.

So I open the door just a bit, and flip the lightswitch on, and a big grey bat comes dive-bombing at the door, which I slam shut. Yo! This is not cool. WTF.

So, I'm thinking, where's my sleeping bag? I don't think it's in the bedroom. It's not in the spare bedroom, but hey, there's the futon Kathryn moved over here when Rob and Sarah lived here last fall. I can sleep there. Kinda cold, nice to have a blanket or something. So I head downstairs to find the sleeping bag. Not in the closets. Basement maybe? I'm down there rooting around and can't find it. Ugg.

Well, maybe I can catch the bat and get it out of here and just go back to bed. And then I realize I'll be chasing after this thing barefoot in my birthday suit, and that just seems crazy. Too many bad things could happen. I just want it to go away, a particular instance of my pacifist "tuck into a fetal position, roll out of the way, and hope for the best" approach to physical conflict.

So I go back upstairs to the bedroom hallway. I listen closely. Maybe it has left? Then, schnit, squeal, bang into the screen. Nope, it's still flailing. I'm going to sleep in the spare bedroom. In some sort of weird bat-mind theorizing, I leave the bedroom and hallway lights on, figuring he wants to get out, and he'll be less likely to head for the bottom of the door if it's light on the other side.

I find the winter comforter, and pull it onto the futon, and bunch some of it up at the head for a pillow, and crash sometime after midnight.

I wake up and don't want to get up. Eventually I get up and listen at the door. Nothing. I peek inside. No apparent danger. I quickly put on sweats and a t-shirt, and get out of there. I spend an hour wondering about my approach to the search. I eat a banana. I check email. I check my morning blogs. I call Kathryn. Finally, I get my Tilly hat, my leather garden gloves, and my capture implements: a 3 gallon paint bucket, and an 11 x 17 sheet of photo-mount backing board.

I carefully head into the bedroom, searching on the floor, walls, and ceiling. Nothing. Corners? Under the bed? On the slats up under the bottom of the bed? Behind the curtains? Behind the pillows on the floor? In the closet? I can't find him. Maybe he really did find his way out under the air conditioner, the likely way he got in. I tape up the A/C slot, and hope he really got out, leaving my bucket and backing board handy in case I need them tonight.

It all feels like a weird dream, kind of like the fiction I wrote in 2002. But amplified, since it was, in fact, real. Six or eight hours from now we'll be headed to bed. I wonder what will happen....

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Shipped

August 8, 2007 | Life | Products & Opportunites

Our project went live an hour ago.

I'll tell you all about it in a couple of weeks, after vacations. For now, just marking the date.

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Delete and Design

August 1, 2007 | Life | People & Society

So today Jeff came in for a meeting and after we settled in I asked him, "Should we try to do anything about the Explore page, or just wait until after launch?"

Jeff said (I paraphrase), "That tour page has got to go." We then launched into an hour-long discussion, starting with the presumption of this one particular page that we're going to rip out, and moved on to making bumper stickers with a two-word tag line on them, as an expression of the opposite of what the egregious Tour page expresses. Compared bumper stickers to domed labels in social field impact. This tangented into some lengthy discussion on the desirability of choosing a focused market segment and not trying to please everyone, concluding the best approach is that sometimes less is more. We considered the differing impact of an elite right-wing education or an elite left-wing education on one's stance toward economics and activism. Eventually we agreed that I would delete the offending Tour page and also design a bumper sticker for the tag line.

Then I said, making a few to-do notes, "Okay, cool. Do you think we should try to do anything about the Explore page, or just wait until after launch?"

And Jeff replied, "Oh, wow; you asked that an hour ago, and I heard the wrong word, and I went off on that Tour page, and everything else, and you were so nice, you didn't even say anything...."

Well, it all had to be discussed, and we had fun along the way.

 

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Sticker Bumpkins

July 12, 2007 | Arts & Culture | Life | People & Society

About three months ago, I saw that Don had an Obama bumper sticker on his car, and I said, "I want one of those." So I went to the website, and much to my surprise, there was no way to buy a bumper sticker. No swag at all. Crazy.

I decided to send them a comment, but to do so I had to register on the site. Sigh. So I registered, and sent a message to the effect of, "I want to buy a bumper sticker; what the heck, eh??" Then I went back to work.

About a month later, I got a phone call at home. "Hi this is Dave from the NH Obama '08 campaign. I just wanted to check in and see how you thought the campaign was going so far." I said, "Seems great to me, except I want a bumper sticker, and I can't figure out how to buy one online. You should sell them for $20 or something." Dave said, "Yeah, they're really hard to get. You know, we're going to be opening an office in downtown Hanover, I'm sure we'll have them there once we open." "Cool," I replied, "just let me know." "Okay, thanks," he said. And that was that.

Then about a month after that, I was walking down Main Street and saw Tom, who, as it turns out, is doing some volunteering for the Obama campaign. He was with Graham, who is with the political desk of the campaign, visiting from Manchester NH and talking to people. Tom introduced me as an entrepreneur (simply because I can spell it quickly) and Graham said they were going to be starting a business for Obama group, and he'd love to have me attend some of those events. "Cool," I said. "Will I be able to buy a bumper sticker there?" Told him about the website, and the phone call, and said, would love to advertise for you guys; what's with the sticker shortage? He said, "Yeah, they're really hard to get." We exchanged cards, and I went to the post office.

The next day I got an email from Graham that began, "I was lucky to meet you yesterday..." And I thought, what a great way to get someone's attention. "Lucky to meet me," – maybe I'll get a bumper sticker!

About a week ago I got an email from the Obama campaign, saying, hey, we heard your pleas and cries and wailing in the night, and finally got around to opening an online store so you can buy all that swag you've been asking for. Cool, I thought, I'll check that out someday. It's about time.

Then today I was finishing a sandwich at the office and someone knocked on the door. "Yo," I said. In walks this tall lanky young friendly kinda-goofy guy, who says, "Are you Michael J.?" "Yup," I said.

"I heard you wanted an Obama bumper sticker," he said, as he handed me the goods. I nearly fell over. "Wow! This is like a precious commodity!," I exclaimed. "Yeah, they're really hard to get," he said. I said, "I went on the website, and I couldn't believe they weren't selling them." Then Dave said, "Yeah, I was talking with Graham, and he said you wanted one." I laughed out loud. "You were talking with Graham?!?!?" Like, this is the modern political campaign. Including intrastate backchannel discussion about getting Michael J. his Obama bumper sticker? My mind reeled. "Yeah," he said, "I came a couple of times last week, but you weren't here." Three words: O. M. G. I'm thinking, here's this guy, walking the streets of Hanover, searching for Michael J., with a single Obama bumpersticker in his hand! It's like they invented some weird, inefficient, but personal, and effective, distribution mechanism.

I guess you can just order them online now, but this one is more special than that, because they made me beg for the bumper sticker – they're so hard to get no one has ever hardly seen one – and then in the end they send a guy dedicated with a singular focus to this one task, not even carrying a backpack with literature or other swag, or anything, and it makes me feel like they'd do anything to deliver this to me. How odd is that?

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Making Happy

June 22, 2007 | Arts & Culture | Life

via Chris Glass:

From Stefan Sagmeister's presentation at TED:

Complaining is silly. Either act or forget.
Thinking life will be better in the future is stupid. I have to live now.
Being not truthful works against me.
Helping other people helps me.
Organizing a charity group is surprisingly easy.
Everything I do always comes back to me.
Drugs feel great in the beginning and become a drag later on.
Over time I get used to everything and start taking if for granted.
Money does not make me happy.
Traveling alone is helpful for a new perspective on life.
Assuming is stifling.
Keeping a diary supports my personal development.
Trying to look good limits my life.
Worrying solves nothing.
Material luxuries are best enjoyed in small doses.
Having guts always works out for me.

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Firewalk'd

April 3, 2007 | Life | People & Society | Travel

On Friday night, I, along with nearly 4,000 other people, walked barefoot over 12 feet of hot burning coals. At least 1,200 degrees. About eight or ten steps. Barefoot. It's quite an experience.

You can imagine the legal disclaimer (edited for brevity):

In consideration of my participation in the seminar I agree to release and hold harmless RRI for any liability whatsoever for any damage or injury, personal or mental, which might incur as a result of my voluntary decision to walk barefoot on a bed of hot burning coals. I am fully aware and understand that, at a seminar sponsored by RRI and its promoters, I will be given the opportunity to walk barefoot on burning wood coals, which will range in temperature between 1,200 - 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit. If I do choose to walk on the coals, I affirm that I have not been coerced or persuaded in any way to do so, and I acknowledge that I make this decision voluntarily and without reservation. I am fully aware and acknowledge that there is no guarantee regarding my safe passage. I am fully aware that I may suffer serious injury, including severe burns or other physical or mental damage.

Thirty lanes of firewalkers, in the first floor of a Meadowlands NJ parking garage, at midnight, in the dark, with loud drums pounding, people chanting, and dancers with glow sticks twirling about. Kool-aid; drank.

Update: Hannah posts (with good links); I comment.

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Keith's Song

March 11, 2007 | Life | People & Society

When I first arrived at Top of The Hop for book group he was playing the piano, and I paused at the top of the stairs. He continued playing, but asked, "Too loud?" And I said, "No, beautiful."

There was another guy standing near him, and I thought maybe they were playing together, or studying together, or waiting for other people -- there was a box of doughnut holes and a NY Times on the nearby table.

After I took off my coat and sat a ways away, he asked what kind of music I liked. "Everything, pretty much," I said. "Well, name a song, maybe I know it." At a loss for words I eventually said, "How about something from the bebop era?" "Yeah!," he said. And then proceeded to knock out a perfect rendition of a complicated Thelonious Monk song. Not only was it perfect, but it had soul, and swing, and he was really into playing it.

Then, again, "Name a song! What bands do you like?" I finally admitted to a Grateful Dead habit in college, which moved toward jazz, and now exploring the edges of "classical" 20th century art music. He said, "Do you like Led Zeppelin?" "Sure," I said, thinking, how funny -- just this past weekend Bowfire played a Celtic strings arrangement of a take on Kashmir (!!) at the Lebanon Opera House, and before that I hadn't thought about The Zep since I bought that archive DVD and played it while Lynne and I were getting ready for a party a couple of years ago. "Really takes you back to high school, huh?," she said. Sure does.

So anyway, he starts into Fool In The Rain (don't worry, I had to look it up). And then as I'm sitting on the couch with my tea, waiting for friends, he takes Fool In The Rain to places Page and Plant never dreamed of. Probably a dozen, or even two dozen, bright and blinding references to other composers and entire genres of music. Each time, returning somehow, some way -- sometimes quickly, sometimes briefly, sometimes with great harmonic dexterity -- returning to the Zep theme. He was moving in the seat, moving in and out of the theme, swaying, humming, and really knocking himself out.

Meanwhile, the other guy has moved to a table behind him and is working on marking up a paper or something.

I asked about a Chopin concerto I heard on the radio Monday, and he launched into it: "Is this the #7? Or was it this one?" I had no idea, but he probably had one of them right.

So then Maureen arrives, and Suzanne, and we start talking a bit, and suddenly Keith stops and comes over to a couch near us. And then we experienced a very interesting and unpredictable 45 minutes. It's not everyday that you get to meet someone who was at turns brilliant, scary, thought-provoking, deep, and duplicitous. Absolute genius, and possibly dangerous. I'd never give him any trackable or identifyible details of my life.

He was a quick conversationalist, though monologuist might better describe it. One of us would ask a question, and he would go off on a lucid, raving, coherent explication of the topic. Common touchpoints included: the relation of the self to others; understanding your self, and coming to know it; how society is constructed to keep people down; the beauty and love of children; how the grace and beauty of children are squeezed out of them by parents, teachers, bosses, friends, and assorted others; how love is the only thing that can heal you; how he feared his dad, and how long it took to get that voice out of his head; how one of the ways he's defying convention is to marry a 41-year old wife, though he is only 27; how doctors need power over others to maintain their ego; how rich people are so boring; and on and on and on.

Meanwhile, the other guy has now moved across the room, far, far away. And I'm wondering, has this guy Keith been up all night tripping, or is he a crazy genius, or what?

Along the way, I started to wonder about his truthiness. It began early, when I said I liked the Grateful Dead: "Oh, I love the Dead. The Dead are great." But he didn't know any of the songs.

When Maureen mentioned that she was playing at the hospital rotunda later that day: "At Dartmouth?! Do they have a piano there?" Then, a few minutes later: "Yes, I played there yesterday."

In the end, I wondered if he was 27, if he was married, if anything he said were true. But I did know, first hand, what a brilliant piano player he was, with a memory and soulful skill that was rarely heard in a casual setting.

By and by that other guy left the Hop without saying goodbye. Did they even know each other?

As we wrapped up, Keith took the doughnuts and left, remembering our names, and who knows what else. Later, when I looked up the Zeppelin song, I was astounded at the lyrics I read:

http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/ledzeppelin/foolintherain.html

"Fool In The Rain"

Well there's a light in your eye that keeps shining Like a star that can't wait for the night I hate to think I've been blinded baby Why can't I see you tonight?

And the warmth of your smile starts a-burnin' And the thrill of your touch gives me fright And I'm shaking so much, really yearning Why don't you show up, make it all right? Yeah, it's all right.

And if you promised you'd love so completely and you said you would always be true You swore that you would never leave me, baby: What ever happened to you?

And you thought it was only in movies As you wish all your dreams would come true It ain't the first time believe me, baby I'm standin here feeling blue Yeah I'm blue

Now I will stand in the rain on the corner I'll watch the people go shuffling downtown Another ten minutes no longer And then I'm turning around

The clock on the wall's moving slower My heart it sinks to the ground And the storm that I thought would blow over Clouds the light of the love that I found

Now my body is starting to quiver And the palms of my hands getting wet I've got no reason to doubt you baby, It's all a terrible mess

I'll run in the rain till I'm breathless When I'm breathless I'll run till I drop, hey The thoughts of a fool's kind of careless I'm just a fool waiting on the wrong block, oh yeah Light of the love that I found...

Listen

This lyric seems to perfectly sum up Keith's story, as told in fragments to people he doesn't know, on a Friday morning when I thought I'd be thinking about 3rd and 4th order consciousness and how we relate to other people. In fact, I was, but never did I expect such a wildly radical approach to the topic.

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Not Yet Within Range

February 28, 2007 | Arts & Culture | Life | Technology

For some reason, I am now craving a Leica M8 digital rangefinder camera, with the 16-18-21mm, the 28-35-50mm, and the 90mm lenses.

This is absurd, since that would be about $15,000 in camera equipment, well outside not only my budget, but also my socio-economic caste.

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Happy New Year

January 2, 2007 | Life

2006 was a forest fire. 2007 is the re-seeding. Welcome to the future.

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Strong Medicine

December 25, 2006 | Arts & Culture | Life | People & Society

Between the rampant consumerism, the killing carried out in the name of God, and your everyday garden-variety family dynamics, it takes a heckofalotof positive, weird, and funky energy to keep the cultural balance this time of year. In an attempt to stay sane, the past three days I've deep-listened to:

* Frank Zappa's, We're Only In It For The Money, Lumpy Gravy, and Civilization Phase Three. (That right there should tell you something, when those three albums are the description of sanity.) [Those are all really good Wikipedia links for learning about Zappa's music, which is worth doing, hint.]
* Bob Dylan's Blood On The Tracks and Modern Times.
* Grateful Dead, Truckin' Up To Buffalo, July 4, 1989.
* Phil Lesh and Friends, Live at the Warfield DVD, May 19, 2006 (twice!). This is some hot jamband-inspired jazz improvisation, showing off John Scofield tearing it up with Larry Cambell. Joan Osborne on vocals.
* Radiohead's Kid A. ("...one of the most challenging pop records ever to achieve such commercial success.")

I've also browsed Love In America, an article on interpersonal triangles by Thomas Fogarty, an MSW thesis written by a friend (regarding the effects death-anxiety has on end-of-life caregivers), and the New Yorker Complete Cartons.

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Coop Holiday Shopping

December 22, 2006 | Life | People & Society

I went to the Coop at 1:30 PM today, three shopping days before Christmas, and the first day off of work for most people. I knew it would be a scene, but it was such a scene I got a photo pass from the store manager and took a few shots. When you arrive and there aren't any carts, you know you're in for it:

After you make it through the deli (whew!!) you have the dairy gauntlet:

The intersection of wine, meat, and produce was something of a bottleneck:

I don't eat caviar, but if I did I'd be glad to know you can get it in a range of qualities this year, from $4.25/oz to $130/oz:

Checkout moved quickly, but there were a lot of people, and everyone had full carriages:

My meager basket was $143.62:

Eat, drink, and make a toast to peace in our lifetime.

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Monday Blues

December 11, 2006 | Life

Observe the following:

1. It's 40 degrees F outside.
2. I'm wearing a t-shirt, a flannel shirt, a wool sweater, and a ski jacket.
3. I'm freezing, my sore throat is a lot worse today than yesterday, and I can't tell if my muscles ache or if it's tension because I'm cold.

Ugg, I hope this doesn't last too long. Is it too late for a flu shot this year?

Update: Okay, I've worked 90 minutes today, time to go home.

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What's Up

November 16, 2006 | Life

The reason for so little blogging lately.

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The World Standard in Studless Winter Tyres

November 7, 2006 | Business & Commerce | Life | Nature & Environment

Glen said, "The ultimate winter weapon is still the Hakk 2's with studs, but if you don't want to run the studs with the noise and the rolling resistance and everything, then the RSi is what people are talking about." Better than the Hakk 2's? "Without the studs; With the studs, Hakk 2's are what you want." Got it. "This is a good tyre, it's quiet—people say it's really quiet—and it replaces the Nokia Q, which was around for ten years, and people liked that tyre quite a lot." How much? "Let me go work it out." [3 minutes of tyre store being] "$109 mounted and balanced." Okay, sold.

Now I just have to get there at 7:15 some morning to be in the first batch of customers. Otherwise it's an all-day affair.

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Dear Boloco

November 7, 2006 | Business & Commerce | Life

Quality control in Hanover has GOT to improve. Today: Regular teriaki with chicken. $6.25 They forgot the chicken. Then realized that this is normally $5.25 if memory serves. Last visit: Ordered extra chicken. Got normal amount of chicken.

This is the sort of thing where it's way too much of a hassle to go back and complain for a dollar or two. Plus, with a small staff you can get a rep for complaining and then who knows what happens to the ingredients in your next order.

Recommendation: Give every customer a receipt. Put a sign up saying, "If we don't give you a receipt your next order is free." Print messages on the receipt like, "Was your order perfect? How can we improve? www.boloco.com" etc. Monthly drawing for best feedback, etc.

I realize it's a tough staff to manage (high turnover, low pay, tedious work, food service, lunchtime slams, etc) but at this point three of my last four visits were incorrect meals, and one of them seems like it included an overcharge (two, if you count the missing extra chicken).

So I'll give it another shot in December, but it's been kind of a downer in Sept and Oct.

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Have You Made Any Meaning Today

November 2, 2006 | Life

Reported at check-in: "I tried to make some meaning from yesterday's meeting...."

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Autumn Beauty

October 17, 2006 | Life | Nature & Environment

Saturday was a stunning late-fall New Hampshire day. We went for another 14-mile bike ride on the rail trail.

Bridge Over the Water

The ride includes several bridges over the Mascoma River, vehicle gates, dark forest, traveling past open green fields, under an Interstate highway, next to the Mascoma Lake for quite a while, through steep rock walls, and past rambling ramshackle mill buildings. It's a real gem of a community resource. Two more photos over at Flickr.

Kathryn On the Trail

When naming, always include the most important element no matter its prominence in the photograph.

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The Present

October 15, 2006 | Life

From Saturday's yoga class: "Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift we call the present."

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My Life at Work

October 12, 2006 | Life | Software

Excerpt:

• Would it be possible to have the h3 pick up the correct "subhead" style from the div id="centerwrap" directly? That is, it would be nice if the user didn't have to enter the class in the edit block. We use the Markdown processor, so typically the user would start an h3 line with "###" and it would generate the h3 tags for them. But we can't specify css classes that way. If the h3's inside the centerwrap div got the class styling automatically (via a css selector) it would be mondo cool.
• Likewise with the h2 class=movedot. Can this get picked up from the expTeaseWrap div? Generally speaking, we try to minimize class specs so editors don't have to worry about them. However, the "followme" class and the "last" class and the ones in the nav and such are fine because editors don't edit those ones.

From Open Space and World Café to Perl and CSS. No wonder I have a headache.

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ISFP

October 12, 2006 | Life

How the ISFP sees Self

• Very affirming.
• Sympathetic and trusting.
• Good communicator especially where values and ideals are involved.
• Hard working and practical.

How Others see the ISFP

• Difficult to negotiate with.
• Won't follow divorce laws or is naive about what actual law is.
• Not serious enough about negotiations.
• Flaky and irresponsible.

And, of course, both Truth and Beauty lie in the eyes of the beholder. So don't take anything too seriously, because moods change like the Sun and Moon.

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Rosanne Cash

October 10, 2006 | Arts & Culture | Life

Saw Rosanne Cash Saturday night at Dartmouth. Fourth row center. Amazing performer. Amazing band. Much more transformative than Amiee Mann a week earlier. Rosanne is Johnny Cash's daughter by his first wife (Vivian Liberto, not June Carter Cash). Cash's husband, John Leventhal, was the guitarist, and my comment after the show was, "Watching him made me realize how average most guitar players are."

The most poignant moment was her arrangement of Ode to Billy Joe, originally by Bobbie Gentry. I haven't heard this song, nor thought about it, in 35 years, but I could have sung the lyrics word for word. Somewhere along the line it was burned into my memory. Cash's performance was slow, moving, deliberate, and chilling. Afterward she commented, "That song is like a Walker Evans painting." Right on.

There was a Q&A after the show with her, the video director, and the producer. Maybe a hundred of the 900 audience members stayed. Eventually I asked a variation of my stock artist forum question, "How do you sync up with the audience, and how does the audience influence your performance, and what do you do if it's not gelling?"

Cash talked about how she has a bag of tricks to regain her center, and commented that sometimes you don't want to sync up with the audience because, you know, you don't want to sync up with some audiences."

I jumped in, "How can we be a good audience?" People giggled. She said, "Oh my God I love you, I want to come down there and kiss you." And continued on to say, more or less, "just listen." The producer elaborated, as I recall these three days later, on listening with intent, and feeling the music in you, and engaging with the performance in a heartfelt way. And then they moved on to another question.

I myself know how to be a good audient. My intent with the question is to give the performer a platform to educate the audience about engaging with music and performance at a level deeper than passive entertainment consumption. Especially the stoic New England elites. It's a softball question, but sounds serious because few people think about music or listening with any depth.

Walking out my date said, "Only you, Notio, could ask a question that made the star say she wanted to kiss you, and then have the producer get all touchy feely about listening." Yup, could be true.

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Addled

October 5, 2006 | Life

I just asked my office-mate: "Addled; is that a word? I just wrote 'my addled brain,' is that the right usage?" He replied, "Yes."

F12 to the dictionary:

addle |ˈadl|
verb [ trans. ] chiefly humorous

make unable to think clearly; confuse : being in love must have addled your brain. adjective archaic
(of an egg) rotten.

ORIGIN Middle English : from Old English adela [liquid filth,] of Germanic origin; related to Dutch aal and German Adel ‘mire, puddle.’

Oh, how God smiles.

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The Harder They Come

September 29, 2006 | Governance | Life | People & Society

But I'll keep on fighting for the things I want
Though I know that when you're dead you can't
But I'd rather be a free man in my grave
Then living as a puppet or a slave

Garcia has a great version from 1978 in commercial release.

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It Will Become Impossible Not to Speak the Truth

September 29, 2006 | Life | People & Society

Scheherazade on blogging (reposted in full):

I got an email from someone today who started blogging because of stumbling across this blog. I wrote back to her, and said this:

I do think that if you blog, honestly, for six months, it will change your life. I'm not sure why, exactly, but it will. I think if you get in the habit of first noticing, then describing, the truth about your life and your reactions to it, it will become impossible not to speak the truth. And when you've made telling the truth and being tuned into your world a habit, you will make changes to things that don't work for you. And so you'll make room for wonder, and you'll become more fully yourself.

Enjoy. I don't think we know what we have to say until we start saying it. And I definitely don't think we know our power until we start being honest and brave in front of other people. I'm still learning how to do that, but this blog is teaching me how, daily.

Thanks Sherry.

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Autumn

September 25, 2006 | Life | Nature & Environment

Yesterday I stood on the deck and watched the wind blow the leaves off the weak trees. Some of the remaining leaves are turning color, and the nights are crisp and cool. In two weekends my nephew will visit for annual apple picking. The driveway is covered with pine needles. My neighbor mowed the field last week. I need to stake the driveway for snow plowing.

The last time I looked it was July and I was at a concert. Then I blinked and I was at another one with a new friend. Then I blinked again and now it's the end of the summer, autumn is really here, and winter's around the corner. Wow.

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En Route

September 25, 2006 | Life

Email banter plus blogging, a deadly blow to productivity. Let's go to lunch.

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The Power of Mental Models

September 25, 2006 | Life

My friend Peter Pruyn sent this recently:

The best advice I ever got was from an elephant trainer in the jungle outside Bangalore. I was doing a hike through the jungle as a tourist. I saw these large elephants tethered to a small stake. I asked him, 'How can you keep such a large elephant tied to such a small stake?' He said, 'When the elephants are small, they try to pull out the stake, and they fail. When they grow large, they never try to pull out the stake again.' That parable reminds me that we have to go for what we think we're fully capable of, not limit ourselves by what we've been in the past.

— Paul Vivek, quoted in "The Best Advice I Ever Got," Fortune, March 21, 2005, p. 100.

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Best Seminar Chair, 2006

September 23, 2006 | Life | Products & Opportunites | SoL | Travel

I sat in these chairs 32 hours last week. I would not want to work full-time in this chair, but it is, by far, the best seminar or workshop chair I have ever experienced. Very comfortable. They deserve an award for designing a chair that fits the body, and Ford deserves an award for purchasing decent chairs for large group meetings.

The Notio award for Best Seminar Chair, 2006, goes to the arper Pamplona, designed by G.Terin & G.Topan, made in Italy.

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Social Capital

September 19, 2006 | Life | SoL | Travel

I'm at a SoL meeting with about 60 people. About 20 of them are in my consulting convergence group, and we're meeting as a sub-group frequently throughout the four days. The schedule is fairly grueling for white-collar types, mostly 8 AM to 8 or 9 PM every day.

Tonight was the 'open' night, where we can have unscheduled dinner with friends and colleagues. I was exhausted, and was the first one on the 5:45 bus to the hotel. Next to me sat Joanne and Karen, and on the way to the hotel in talking about dinner options I said, "I'm exhausted. I want to walk to the Olive Garden, eat with one or two people, or alone, and do it soon so I can get some sleep." They thought that was a decent idea, and after a 15 minute wash-up we walked over there and broke bread.

We had a lot of good conversation, and when I said George Bush was a war criminal we found out that Karen strongly disagreed—he is a man of faith who believes in democracy and freedom; gag me—but we were able to gracefully move on without too much politics or hard feelings. They were intrigued with my online dating story, and essentially outed the whole marriage story, the public parts anyway, and we had a very open and honest conversation about intimacy and relationships.

On our way out we ran into a table with 12 of our colleagues, and we stopped over to say hello. M.S. briefly surveyed the situation, called me over, pushed his chair out, and pulled me close. He whispered: "Notio, can you tell me how it is that you ended up with the two best-looking women in the entire conference, alone, for dinner?" I said, "I have no idea; it just happened." He replied, "More power to you."

Then I.W. called me over to the end of the table. She and I have had a kind of rocky relationship, because she's been around since the early days of SoL, and her 68 years of Croatian wisdom sometimes annoy my modern sensibilities. But she leaned over to me and said, "Notio, you are very lucky to have your supper with those two women. That is really quite something. Do you that that [x] used to be an actress?" No, I didn't know that. She looked me in the eye, "Well—you enjoy yourself." That whole end of the table was grinning and staring and generally letting their imaginations run wild to my great benefit. We three soon said our goodbyes, and walked back to the hotel, and each went to our respective rooms.

But the unintended social capital of that five minutes saying hello to colleagues will last the rest of the conference, without doubt. Tomorrow night is the party at the Model T museum, and I can already hear it now....

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Detroit, Motor City

September 18, 2006 | Life | Nature & Environment | Travel

Arrived at Detroit airport yesterday and called the hotel. "How do I get to you?"

"Okay, you take the south exit of the airport, get onto route blah, go 8.8 miles and take exit blahblah,...." I interrupted: "I'm not renting a car. Is there any public transportation?"

"Oh. Well, I think there are cabs somewhere near the Ground Transportation area." All-righty then. This is the first airport I've ever been to that didn't have a $15 bus that stopped at all the major hotels. Into the cab I got. Half an hour and $36 later I arrived at the hotel.

At the front desk after checking in I asked, "Is there an Appleby's or Chilli's or something around here to eat?" This was Sunday at 8:00 PM, I wasn't looking for a fancy wine list.

"Sure," he says. "Go out of the driveway, take a right. Go to the end of the street, take a left. Go 3 miles and there's a bunch like that right there." I said, "I didn't rent a car—is there anything within walking distance?"

"Oh. Hmm. Well; not sure. Just past that Best Buy I think there's something."

Cue Laurie Anderson: Hey Pal! How do I get to town from here? And he said: Well just take a right where they're going to build that new shopping mall, go straight past where they're going to put in the freeway, take a left at what's going to be the new sports center, and keep going until you hit the place where they're thinking of building that drive-in bank. You can't miss it.

Anyway, here's a guy who knows the restaurants three miles away but doesn't know what's next door?

And then I realized, hello, Notio, you are in Dearborn, MI, on Mercury Drive, just off of Ford Road, about 0.2 miles from the Ford world headquarters. No wonder there's no public transport. And hey, didya notice? There aren't any sidewalks either!

Welcome to Motor City.

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Help On The Way

September 16, 2006 | Life

Tell me the cost,
I can pay,
Let me go,
Tell me love is not lost,
Sell everything,
Without love, day to day,
insanity is king

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Word of the Day

September 11, 2006 | Life

Petoskey Stone:

A Petoskey stone is a rock, often pebble-shaped, that is composed of a fossilized coral, Hexagonaria percarinata. The stones were formed as a result of glaciation, in which sheets of ice plucked stones from the bedrock, grinding off their rough edges and depositing them in the northwestern portion of Michigan's lower peninsula.

The state stone of Michigan!

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On Waking Up Fearful

September 11, 2006 | Life

There are, at least, two primary kinds of fear. The first is internal. Say, I'm late on some client work. Generally I can use internal fear as a motivator – I get up wicked early and crank on the to-do list. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed and waste some time mentally spinning with no results, but usually I can get traction at some point and move through it, make progress, and meet the deadline.

The other kind of fear is external. Generally I can recognize and then ignore external fear and just move on.

But sometimes external fear is a lot harder to shake. Say, you're trying to have a graceful mediated divorce, and your wife chooses a lawyer who has a local rep which freaks you out. You hear all the voices, the dozen people now who have sighed, rolled their eyes, and said things about him you don't want to type. Then you find out that the accountants made an error on the 2004 taxes and in addition to the $12,363 you owe for 2005, you owe another $3,000 for 2004. Technically, it's joint debt, with each party having full responsibility for the whole debt, no matter who earned the income. But practically, it's extremely painful, and the last thing you need is an opposing lawyer who is known to play games. Hopefully that lawyer is not also stupid, and sees there's no money here, and wraps this up post haste.

I didn't even want lawyers, I wanted a mediator. The compromise was we'd mediate but Lynne wanted a lawyer to advise her, and at that point I felt exposed and thought I should have one too. So I found a lawyer who has Tibetan prayer flags behind her desk, and she's smart and witty and has a great rep, and I'm getting great advice, especially in the context of trying to have a non-confrontational ending to an introspective and non-angry separation and decision process.

I managed to avoid, in toto, the five-year 9/11 anniversary fear campaign manufactured by the Bush/Cheney Consolidated-Corporate-Media department industry last week (screw you, ABC). But it's hard to tell how much of that propaganda is thriving below the surface in the collective unconscious, and if it's alive and well, whether it would be easy to infiltrate a non-participant like me. In this case I would like to think that my feelings are tied to a global external fear rather than a local external fear, but you just never know.

In any event, the NH law statutes are an interesting read.

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Engrossment's That Are Not Even Their Own

September 7, 2006 | Arts & Culture | Life | People & Society

Excerpt from On the Shortness of Life:

You really must leave the ground and turn your mind's eye upon these things! Now while the blood is hot, we must enter with brisk step upon the better course. In this kind of life there awaits much that is good to know—the love and practice of the virtues, forgetfulness of the passions, knowledge of living and dying, and a life of deep repose.

The condition of all who are engrossed is wretched, but most wretched is the condition of those who labour at engrossments that are not even their own, who regulate their sleep by that of another, their walk by the pace of another, who are under orders in case of the freest things in the world—loving and hating. If these wish to know how short their life is, let them reflect how small a part of it is their own.

—Lucius Annaeus Seneca

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Symbolic Interaction

September 7, 2006 | Life | People & Society

Last night a friend called via cell phone from Michigan between sets at a concert.

Cell phones suck. The microphones pick up a lot of background noise, there are frequently echos on one side or the other, there are subtle time delays that make it hard to tell when someone has stopped speaking, and the mics are so low quality that it's hard to hear the specific words. I end up interpolating and guessing a lot of the time.

Add to this the fact that household wireless phones also suck, for most of the same reasons, and the end result is that you're not getting much human connection via electrons. Immediately I better understood Debord's idea that " the spectacle made relations among people seem like relations among images."

We had a nice symbolic interaction, but not much human connection that wasn't manufactured in my own mind. Gawd, give me some eye contact, some body language, some tone of voice and inflection, some sixth-sensory telepathy—otherwise let's just keep it short and symbolic and not attempt any meaning.

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Zero!

August 30, 2006 | Life

My email inbox count is now zero. That's right, zero email messages in my inbox. Once more, with feeling: ZEEEEEEROOOOOO!!! Praise the lord and pass the chocolate. It has been years, possibly ten years, since the inbox was completely empty. Typically on a major cleanup I can get it down to 15 or so. This week I decided to go for the gold. If you keep up with the incoming, and process the old ones at five or ten a day, you can make some real progress.

Now, let's keep it that way.

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IRS Installment Plans

August 29, 2006 | Life

In case you ever find yourself owing the IRS $12,363, here is what you need to know about payment plans and interest rates.

IRS-PUB, 2005, IRS Publication No. 910, An Installment Plan to Pay Your Taxes

If you are not able to pay all your federal taxes by the due date, a monthly payment plan may be the answer. The process isn't automatic and there may be alternatives, but if you are eligible, this could be the solution that makes paying taxes easier.

Apply for a payment plan by completing Form 9465, Installment Agreement Request. This form also has details about eligibility requirements.

Generally, you may have up to 60 months to pay, but paying the full amount as soon as possible will save you money in penalties and interest. The late payment penalty is usually 0.5 percent a month, every month, up to 25 percent of the tax owed. Interest rates vary because they are set quarterly. You can check the current interest rate by going to www.irs.gov, keyword interest rate. Interest and penalties are figured on the declining monthly balance throughout the life of the payment plan. There is also a $43 set-up fee for an installment agreement, which is taken from your first payment under the plan. Do not send the $43 with Form 9465.

The current interest rate is 8%.

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Rail Trail to Twigs

August 27, 2006 | Business & Commerce | Life

Most readers of this blog will be shocked to hear that I rode my bicycle 14 miles yesterday. I have owned this bike for ten years, and on yesterday's one ride I probably doubled it's total lifetime miles.

One of the draws was the Rail Trail, a reclaimed railroad bed turned into a flat, well-maintained activity trail, with beautiful "behind-the-scenes" views of neighborhoods, covered bridges, lakes, rivers, and streams. Compared to riding around near my country house, with its steep hills, both short and long, the rail trail was a breeze, and that made it more fun. Lots of people had been telling me to get out there, for at least a year now, and I'm glad I did.

But the big news is the absolutely amazing Twigs cafe in Enfield, NH.

It's at the ~7 mile mark riding from Lebanon, and I expected yummy carbo treats, but in addition to all that they have fantastic sandwiches. I had a turkey wrap with sprouts, tomato, mustard, and, get this, real roasted turkey, like from Thanksgiving dinner. It was one of the best sandwiches I've ever had, no kidding.

Cool decorative atmosphere, river views, free wi-fi, what more could you want? It's really worth the ride.

Just opened next door is Stecco, an upscale Italian restaurant with a menu that looks great. Downtown Enfield is coming into its own. There was talk of training this winter and next spring to ride the full length of the rail trail (45 miles) to the Thai restaurant in Concord, NH. Some of you have just spit out your coffee; I apologize.

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TMI: Kundalini

August 24, 2006 | Arts & Culture | Life | People & Society

Sanatan Society:

Kundalini Yoga: The roused Kundalini energy moves upwards in the central nadi, the Sushumna, passing through each of the lower chakras to reach the seventh, the Sahasrara Chakra. This process is known in Kundalini Yoga as the piercing of the chakras and represents the merging of the female with the male.

Kundalaini Teacher:

Headaches: Most Kundalini headaches are caused by too much energy in the head. Many people are accustomed to releasing energy downward, into the Earth. This works if they are spiritually awakened, but not Kundalini awakened, or only using prana.

Lust/Lack: While some Kundalini teachers advocate abstinence, I am not one. I believe in the Wiccan ideal, "All acts of love and pleasure serve the Goddess." Sexual tantra has been used to facilitate the awakening process, for millennia. Sex with an awakened person can cause awakening. (Something to beware of, once one reaches the stage of being Shakt-contagious... awakening can be horrific for the unprepared, so be discerning in your choice of lovers.)

Jargon alert.

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Now In Clogs

August 24, 2006 | Business & Commerce | Life | Products & Opportunites

On May 10 I cracked a sole on my Birkenstock Chicago shoes. No biggie, they were six years old, and it was my second pair. The first pair failed the same way at about the same time. Not so bad: Spend $200 on shoes and wear them almost every day and they last six years. They were also super-comfortable—I could go to a trade show in NYC and walk on concrete for 16 hours and my feet were fine.

So on May 11 I went to the local store to buy another pair, and I found they had discontinued the Chicago model. Okay, what's the replacement? I ended up in the Wexford, which looked a little more business-like, but had a thinner sole and the Footprints low-arch footbed. I like the high-arch footbed, but this model didn't allow the swap. Oh well. $195 later I'm out the door.

The following week it rained. Not hard pouring rain, but a steady drizzle. And walking down Main Street, my feet got soaked. Not because I stepped in a puddle or anything, just from the rain. Bad sign; the Chicago's never did this.

The week after that I noticed that my feet were killing me, and I was mostly just walking to work and sitting all day at the computer. Another bad sign: the Chicago's never did this either.

So I stopped in the store to see if anyone had had similar problems. Of course the store hadn't heard anything.... so I went on my merry way thinking, "No way am I wearing these for six years. I'll last the summer, switch to winter boots when it snows, and then buy some Rockports in the spring, and put Birkenstock insoles in them for the high-arch comfort."

Then this morning I went to put my shoes on and the right one was completely blown out on the side. I hadn't noticed yesterday or last night, but there was a six-inch tear in the seam between the leather and the sole. When did I buy these again? It appears to me that they've either cost-cut this thing to the point of worthlessness, or I got a real bad apple.

I stopped in the store on my way to work, and the owner, who sold me the shoes, was there. He was genuinely surprised. His brother has worn these for the past two years without a problem. We talked about the history as related above. Long story short, not wanting another pair of Wexford's, I'm now in some stylish Alton clogs. Comfy, easy on and off, a firmer sole, and a high-arch footbed.

We haven't actually sorted out the money yet. He wanted to talk to Birkenstock, but if they didn't "do something" he would. I said that weighing 160 lbs, with only three months of use, I didn't really want to eat it, but I'd trust him to sort it out in the next couple of weeks. I'm a 15-year Birkenstock customer, so I'm assuming that they'll do the right thing here.

Meanwhile, for business shoes, I'm headed for the waterproof Rockport with Birk insole option.

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Getting Things Organized

August 24, 2006 | Life

A great Flickr tour of an office organization system based on Getting Things Done. Really advanced implementation. See also: Martin Ternouth's highly-regarded workflow system.

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Is Fear Always a Negative?

August 23, 2006 | Life | People & Society

Kat asked, in a comment, "Is fear always a negative thing?" I briefly reflected, and here's where I am now:

I think of fear as a continuum between "an alert edge" and "paralyzed with fear." What we generalize as "fear" starts at alertness, because at that point you can no longer be fully "open"—you are looking for something, even if you don't know what. By the time you increase your fear to paralyzation, you're toast. In the middle range are an infinite number of emotional and psyiological states which have a fearful component. A less fearful, more fear-less life would seem to have a number of important benefits. It might be worth reflecting on those in depth.

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Bats in the Belfry

August 23, 2006 | Life

On June 18, 2002, I awoke from a dream and wrote this:

Recently, a problem has surfaced where huge numbers of bats suddenly infest a house, church or other public place. Sometimes the bats can reproduce so quickly that they overtake the people present, driving them out. Oddly, it doesn't seem to happen at coffee shops, restaurants or music stores. But city council meetings, Board meetings, homes, churches of all denominations, and courts of law have all experienced situations where bats suddenly and without much warning have reproduced rapidly, in geometric proportions, and driven people to the streets. In one case, a family of five were driven from their house during dinner. By the time the police and fire departments arrived the bats were so thick you couldn't move through the rooms of the house. One estimate on site put the bat population in that house at over a million, in only 1,500 square feet of living space. People are scared.

A public hearing has been called, and a prominent scientist has been asked to testify about the problem. He is at a witness stand, facing the audience. A governing body of some sort (city council, or panel of judges perhaps) is also at the front of the room, and they are asking questions trying to understand the problem and determine what to do.

The scientist is explaining that it is primarily a psychological problem. "You see," he said, "bats do not exist without fear. In fact, I would go so far as to say that bats are created by fear – without fear there would be no bats. The way to eliminate the bats is for each of us to eliminate our fears."

A panelist asks, "But the bats are a physical entity. You're telling us about a psychological state. How can the two be related?"

The scientist explained, "It's an interesting phenomenon. There are many examples of the mind influencing or even controlling physical conditions. The most famous of course is the so-called mind/body connection. Psychosomatic illnesses, cancer patients becoming cured, allergies, asthma, etc. We've known for years that the mind can have an influence over our well-being. Now, in this case, we have an example of our minds manifesting a physical presence due to our insecurity. It's quite an interesting situation, and may be important for all of mankind to understand and learn from."

There was much murmering from audience members when another panelist pressed for a description of how the mechanism worked. "How, exactly," he asked, "does this work? I need to see evidence that your theory is correct."

"It's fairly technical," said the scientist, "but I think it's important to walk through the details. I should warn you, though, that during my description it is critical for every audience member to stay focused on the technical aspects of my theory, and not yet consider the ramifications. There are solutions to the problem at hand, but first let's understand the problem."

"When the first bats appear, each one represents a different fear. These fears come from people's thoughts and interactions. It's very rare for a single person to have enough fear to manifest a bat, but as people congregate their fears form a sort of energy field, and this field can sometimes be strong enough to create bats. In order for a bat to be manifest, the fear factor must exceed a threshold defined by the ratio of the product of collective fears to the sum of individual fears. That is, a strong-willed person without much fear can compensate for another person that carries much fear. However, in groups, the effect of the fear-less people is typically less than that of the fear-full people, and then the dominant effect multiplies, whereas the individual effects only add. The net result is that things can be fine for a long time but as each person's fearful threshold is approached it contributes to the dominant group threshold. At some point the threshold is crossed and then there's little that can be done for that configuration of people."

The first panelist asked, "You said that each bat represents a different fear. Say more about that."

"Sure. As the fearful threshold boundary is approached, dominant fears emerge. When the threshold is crossed, the first bat manifested represents the most dominant fear. At that point the particular fear is 'consumed' so to speak, and pushed down below the threshold – it's a form of redirection. There was fear, it was manifested, now it's not as fearful – since it is now present we can 'rationally' deal with it. As each new fear crosses the threshold, a new bat is manifest. So, if there are a lot of fears, there will be a lot of bats. The real problem however, is that sometimes a fear begins to spin through a group of people such that they continue to think about it, perhaps stuck in a loop of fearful thoughts, each amplifying the others, magnifying the worst potentials of each fear. When this happens and the fear crosses the threshold _again_ a new bat is not created, but rather the existing bats associated with that fear duplicate, similar to cell division."

"For instance, one bat can turn into two, then the two into four, then the four into eight, etc. This can proceed quite rapidly, and once started tends into feedback onto the fear factor, creating new fears and new bats. But, since there are a number of fears possible, eventually there are enough bats that the bats themselves become the fear source. Then it becomes obvious that there is no rational way to deal with over a million bats in one house, the fears continue to multiply there's very little you can do and you don't have much time. It takes a lot of love to counterbalance that much fear, and sometimes the best thing to do is burn the building down and start over."

A panelist asked, "Once the bats appear, is there anything to do to minimize their impact?" Suddenly, a single bat appeared on the back wall of the room. The scientist saw it immediately. The panelists noticed it as he spoke.

"Because the fear factors multiply in groups of people, the best thing to do is to break up the group so that each person can regain their personal center. Smaller groups of two or three, focused on deep desires rather than hypothetical fears, can begin to leverage their love to overcome the fears. This is much more difficult in groups due to psychological entrainment, but basically the largest group that can sustain the least fear will have the most impact over a population. However there is a danger in that if a group suddenly loses their focus and fears coalesce it can be almost impossible to reset the whole group. In that case the groups need to refactor again and focus more narrowly on positive futures."

Now there were about a dozen bats on the back wall, and before the scientist could continue the panelists watched in horror as the bats each morphed into two, halving themselves and doubling at the same time. Like a sophisticated special effect from a science fiction movie, the bats existed outside of normal time – they could appear instantly, grow exponentially, and consume all space. A panelist called the meeting to adjourn. A bat squeaked and flew across the room. Someone screamed. People ran panicked for the doors. Within seconds the bats consumed virtually the entire ceiling volume and were doubling quickly downward toward the audience. The scientist shook his head sadly. Someone called 911. The fire department arrived. When they couldn't see anything but bats through the windows, they set the building on fire.

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Is Psychoanalysis Elitist?

August 22, 2006 | Arts & Culture | Life | People & Society

Was digging around the unblogged writing archives, and found this half-formed thought from July 22, 2003.

A comment has been raised that psychoanalysis is the most narcissistic and elitist of pursuits. I'm beginning to wonder if "elitist" is like "affirmative action" – defined on the fly to suit and argument or perspective.

Sure, rich people do analysis. And so do poor people. And smart people and undereducated people. I'm not sure what the label adds to the discussion.

Is self-discovery and self-knowledge ONLY narcissistic? Is self-awareness ONLY elitist? Should poor people not have access to the advantages of self-knowledge? Should we, as a species, abandon psychoanalysis and by extension formal inquiry and introspection because only some people can afford it?

No, much better that in many places analysis is on the rise. An increase in therapists will drive prices down, just as in Berkeley massage is so cheap as to have created a barter economy. Most therapists are not rich – some are, but plenty are doing it for the love of soul and as a way to increase the evolution of consciousness. This process takes eons, and simplistic labels simply enforce the status quo.

As regards narcism – it may be culture, it may be our place in our collective evolutionary path, but we are a narcissistic people. (cf fashion, makeup, designer eyeglasses, rolex watches, and blogs). What analysands find, however, is that by having an outlet for narcissism they bring LESS of that into their other relationships. You can't will narcissism away – you have to pay attention to it, listen to it, and nurture its healing.

It is likely that a root cause of narcissism is a lack of parental attention in childhood (unproven generalization alert). If this is so, we might want to consider if the two-income, high-materialist lifestyle is the best approach to parenting. It might be better to ditch one income, live a little less large, and spend more time with family and community. Or, perhaps, take a deep look at why one might want to raise children in the first place. Is it because you want a dependent, someone you can control, someone to grow in your image, someone to listen to every word you say as if it comes from God herself? If so, try analysis – it's much cheaper than children.

So. Everyone can afford children but cannot afford a few hundred dollars a month (full boat, no insurance, no reduced rates) for analysis? There's something here other than elitism.

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Where the winds hit heavy

August 22, 2006 | Arts & Culture | Life

Fred Wilson posts an mp3 of Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash singing Girl of the North Country. Stunning.

Well, if you're travelin' in the north country fair, Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline, Remember me to one who lives there. She once was a true love of mine.

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Grids and Graphs

August 21, 2006 | Life

Free Online Graph Paper / Grid Paper PDFs

Amazing collection of graph and grid paper downloads. Each is generated on the fly from your parameters: Doc size, border, grid size, grid color, etc. Way highly useful.

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Attics of My Life

August 12, 2006 | Life

Well, after that last bout of capitalism, I've been relatively introspective, and also relatively productive.

In the attics of my life
Full of cloudy dreams unreal
Full of tastes no tongue can know
And lights no eye can see

Playing guitar. Writing emails. Reflecting. Working this weekend so I can have fun next weekend. Knocking out the work backlog, and dealing with a lot of financial planning and catch-up. Beautiful weather. What more can I say? Life happens.

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That's Odd

August 9, 2006 | Business & Commerce | Life

Sticker found on bananas: "Eat five a day for good health." Five bananas a day?? Wow.

How do you know it's early August? You receive the Eddie Bauer Holiday Preview catalog in the mail. That is so, like, in sync! I have been thinking about Christmas gifts and winter clothing recently, haven't you?

The world is a very odd place.

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The Collision of Two Tendencies

August 7, 2006 | Arts & Culture | Life

Hannah, bless her heart, happened to quote something from The Little Prince that spoke to me, and created an hour of research unrelated to any of my pressing commitments.

The dominant idea in the story of The Little Prince is to be found, of course, in chapter XXI, in which the little prince meets, tames, and says goodbye to the fox.

—Adieu, dit le renard. Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: on ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.

You can only see well with your heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye. The fox adds a corollary to this:

—Les hommes ont oublié cette vérité, dit le renard. Mais tu ne dois pas l'oublier. Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé. Tu es responsable de ta rose...

People forget this truth, but you shouldn't forget it. You become forever responsible for what you tame.

Marie-Louise von Franz, in her amazing Jungian interpretation of the story, writes (pg. 94ff):

It can be said that the fox teaches the little prince the important value of the here-and-now, and with it, of feeling. Feeling gives value to the present, for without it one has no relationship to the here-and-now situation, and with it comes responsibility, and, through that, a formed individual. [...] The fox is here on earth and that friendship must last, for otherwise it is meaningless. [...]

For instance, if a man has an obligation to his anima and also to the woman with whom he made friends or married, then he gets into the typical duality situation of life where one always has a real conflict and a double pull, and is always torn between obligations to this side of life and to the inner or other side. That would be the realization, or the crucifixion, the basic truth of life, that life is double and is a double obligation. Life itself is a conflict because it always means the collision of two tendencies. That is what makes up life, but that realization escapes the little prince completely or he escapes the realization.

Thanks Hannah. Thanks Marie-Louise. I hope I can recover from this reeling mind-bomb and deliver on my obligations today, the ones on the outside, not the inner ones, and at the same time not escape this realization.

N.B.: Do not literalize Saint-Exupery's story, von Franz's interpretation, or my reference. For metaphorical use only.

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What a Weekend is For

August 7, 2006 | Life

Leaving work early on Friday and stocking in enough food to avoid going back into town. Going for a walk and checking out the waterfall down the road for the first time this year. Champaign aperitifs. Cooking easy suppers. Red wine. Listening to music. Enjoying wonderful company. Waking up early and cooking good breakfasts. Chocolate. More music. Cleaning the grill. Long showers. Taking naps. Cooking yummy dinners. A good Merlot. Going to bed early. Waking up late. Having leftovers for breakfast. Visiting the neighbors and their barn, seeing the pigs, the goats, the horses, and the barn swallows just hours before fledgling. Walking through dew-dropped fields. Daytime skinny-dipping in the pond. Smiling through water droplets in the yellow sun of the blue sky. Late lunches. More chocolate. More naps. Discovering that both good restaurants in Claremont are closed Sunday and Monday. More red wine. Sitting on the deck with a bug-protecting light wind, watching the sunset. Late suppers. Good conversations. Self-reflection. Sharing. Exploring. Waking up to a quiet Monday rain and beginning the transition back to the work week.

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