Archive for May, 2004

Death of the Free Network?

Rita Vine, a professional librarian, has written an insightful article about the state of the search engine, in the wake of the new boom in business for Google. The Article wonders is we are approaching “The Death of the Search Engine”, citing that:

  • Search engine indexes are way too big.
  • Keyword guessing is getting harder.
  • Search engines use outdated retrieval-and-sort mechanisms.
  • Organizations are starting to pay for content that could be found for free on the web … if only the searcher knew where to look.
  • Search weariness may finally be setting in.
  • Has the time come for mass market paid web content?

this last, well, it bothers me. I prefer ideas like that silly little dream held by the clinton administration that internet access should be a public utility, like water or electricity, because information is a basic human right. unfortunately, basic human rights also tend to be lucrative business opportunities, they are what people will most pay for. It will be interesting to see what happens.

I was suprised, in an article by a librarian, not to see very much mention of human methods that might be the solution to the mechanical ones.

Online Almanac

For the benefit of those who may not know so much about this historic publication, a synopsis is in order:

“Poor Richard’s Almanac” (sometimes “Almanack”) was a yearly almanac published by Benjamin Franklin, who adopted the pseudonym of “Poor Richard” for the purpose of this work in the title. It appeared continuously from 1732 to 1757. The almanac was a best seller for a pamphlet published in the American colonies; print runs typically ran to 10,000 per year. It contained the typical calendar, weather, and astronomical and astrological information that an almanac of the period contained. It is chiefly remembered, however, for being a repository of Franklin’s aphorisms and proverbs, many of which live on in American English. These maxims typically counsel thrift and courtesy, with just a dash of cynicism.

My fascination with old texts reproduced electronically has led me to ruminate on the difference(s) between the old texts and the new.

Today I stumbled upon a copy of Poor Richard’s Almanack, 1733. Of course, it is ever so much more fun to see what the old book used to look like, rather than to scroll through a text-only version, so you may prefer a facimile copy.

This sounds to me a lot like a certain sector of the material that is self-published today, on the internet on people’s web logs or on homepages… call them what you will, they’re almanacks some of them.

This gives me an idea, perhaps for an interesting way to catalog my links and also for a way to dig up more of the old items I’m finding. I’m quite sure that a large amount of what’s out there on the internet can be classified in very old ways: there are books of commons, almanacks, and other such things out there that simply don’t go by those names. Granted, some of them could only go by those old names by a stretch, but its something I would like to peruse. I wonder if anyone has taken a look at this before.

A nonlinear storyline

I can’t post this idea in good faith without first dedicating it to my friend George, who mused on it for a while. I intend to take that idea and run with it, in my own way.

This is an idea for a new hyper fiction, or maybe even for the hypertext novella that I have in progress, I’m not sure yet. at best, consider this notes on non-linear plotline. I fully intend to make some kind of original literary work as a result of this, but hell, if I die first, or if you beat me to it, well, that just means I did have a good idea after all if you got around to it before I did. After all, this web log is under a creative commons license. So go ahead and make the movie without my permission. Maybe it will flop without my investment in it and I get a free lesson. Who knows?

I have sketched out two versions of my idea, with scene numbers marked below:
_________________________

1.

There is an incident. There is a group of people present at the time of the incident. Every one among the group of people has angered one particular member of that group, who, in turn, has done nothing of consequence to any of the people involved, all of whom are ignorant of each other, because they do not yet understand that each of them is related in some way, some way in which, all ways combined, have contributed to the incident at hand, an incident which is caused by the sudden interjection of the one insulted party into a scene which happens to be entirely occupied by a “world” of people who have harmed this party in some way, and he snaps. He does something. He does something terrible. He is the cause of the incident. This thing haunts every one of the parties present upon the scene of the incident.

2.

the moment after the incident.

3.

the moment before the incident.

and so on….

4. the moment before, the moment before the incident.

and

5. the moment after, the moment after the incident.

and so on…

Until the incident, somehow, makes sense to all of the other parties present during the incident, a sense which comes upon them, coincidentally, at a moment when each of them happen, once again, to all be present at the same location, at the same time, and all of them happen to lay eyes on the one how has been harmed, and all of them realized that he has been harmed, and all of them suddenly understands that everyone here has harmed him, and then they all realize, all of them, they are reading him, they realize he was the guilty one.


Maybe this story is a mystery story. A whodunit. These people are all related somehow, and at first it seems just coincidental… or does the reader already know that this person is freaked out because of all of them, no the reader doesn’t know this. The reader might be led to think that these people are all VICTIMS of the “senseless” horror that has been committed to all of them. the incident is so terrible that it deprives all of them of something dear. but, (as time goes backwards, on the other line?) the other subplot leads toward the development of the idea that these people have each slighted the person in some way, all of them in big ways each, so that the reader will discover at the end, the end will have to look like the beginning, then, like the first moment read and also as if the last minute is a repeat of the first, creating an impossible chronological paradox.. But still, it all comes to a moment where it is realized, the moment is seen, on one end as being through the eyes of the offended [end a] , and on the other end, as seen through a multiplicity of viewpoints, all at once, all of whom suddenly understand that revenge is being enacted upon them [ end b ].

These people involved, each of them has suffered from the event at {1} so they take it out, each of them, in a seemingly small way, on a person who happens then to contribute to the events of [end b]

______________________________________

< before 1. - - - - - - - - after 1. >

[ end a] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ { 1. }_ _ _ _ _ _ [end b]

a = 1 = b.

path of story goes like this.

{ 1.}
the _ to the right of 1
the _ to the left of 1
the _ to the right of the _ to the right of 1
the _ to the left of the _ to the left of 1
and so on…
either the left side, or the right side must be longer by one _
at the end of which there is an option: before or after?
before = [ end a]
after = [ end b]
whichever chosen, is the end.

confessions of a helpless social butterly

There are different kinds of parties in my hometown. Last night’s was an arguing party. Everyone sat out in the spitting rain, under a tree in the bakyard, and they fought and they bickered and they seemed barely even friends. Everyone did their best to win with the volume of their arguments, and of course there was drinking involved, so the volume was both hard to hear and to argue with, or take seriously, or listen to.

I do prefer an arguing party to a wrestling party, or to a football party, or a video game party.

I remember certain other types of parties though, like movie parties, board game partes, not-really-party parties, and, my personal favorite, the kissing party.

The real purpose for the occasion last night was that Ana is moving to Atlanta, and this was her going away party. I’m moving too. Soon, there will be more exciting things than arguing parties, so I can make do for now. Besides, it’s great to see everyone again.

Mediawork gets in the way sometimes!

Upon reading the Mediaworks Pamphlets’ Online Supplements I have begun to develop a complaint. Mark Bernstein posted to his blog a few days ago about software aesthetics, and I think my complaint here might be of a similar vein.

The Media Pamphlets come in two forms, and invariably I found myself preferring the text only format to the confusing, flash-y, and way-too-multilinear, “special” documents. A complicated thingy with a bunch of links and a text only version of the same thing really opened my eyes to how much time really can be wasted by an interface. Rather than waste time with links to things I can’t see, I could skim the whole contents at once, using headers instead of links to point me to where I wanted to go. I simply skipped the paragraphs with headers acting like links I didn’t want to follow — and even a page mostly full of text I didn’t want loaded so much faster than a confusing but pretty page of design I didn’t want.

Surely there is some way to present text in a more dynamic way than text-only, and yet in a way where the design doesn’t get in the way.

I would love to link to particular parts of the web supplement, for example, but the link structure will not allow for that, so I can only refer to the entire thing. The lexicon word map is cute, but poorly legible. For a system like that, the perfect word map I think you should consult the visual thesaurus online version.

The Diary of Samuel Pepys

THE DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS M.A. F.R.S.

CLERK OF THE ACTS AND SECRETARY TO THE ADMIRALTY

TRANSCRIBED FROM THE SHORTHAND MANUSCRIPT IN THE PEPYSIAN LIBRARY MAGDALENE COLLEGE CAMBRIDGE BY THE REV. MYNORS BRIGHT M.A. LATE FELLOW AND PRESIDENT OF THE COLLEGE.

My ongoing curiosity about old texts turned new has led me to something interesting: The Diary of Samuel Pepys. The entire diary of Samuel Pepys is undergoing an electronic republication. My reader(s) may remember him from a brief mention in the compulsory canon, where he is quoted from his diary’s observation’s about the Great London Fire. This happened, you know, before television, when there were a variety of things to observe, or ways to observe them.

Epistolary Hypertext

Ever since that New York Times article about “Intimacies,” by Eric Brown, there has been a small murmur of discussion about it. Goggle occasionally points readers to my page as they look for more information about it, so I thought I would say a bit more about it.

My original comment was that I didn’t much like the idea of an epistolary hypertext because it doesn’t do anything that a regular novel cannot already do, and because this particular kind seems to focus on saying: “Look, people write e-mails, and they text message each other, and they talk to each other via instant messaging, and on their cell phones, and isn’t that cool!” on the other hand i would like to hear “hear is what people have had to say of substance” I don’t care if they wrote it in crayon.

With that notion in mind, I’m actually going to read the novel in question, now that I have the time, and I will post my comments along the way. If you would like to read any or all of it as well, you can go to a site with the balls to call itself great American novel I would also like to refer you, for a good reading along similar lines, to someone with the humanity to call herself Jill

On Being a Stranger

This is a record, like it or not. A record of what? A woman losing her sight? A soldier wandering and wondering? An adolescant catologing complaints against the loss of wonder? No. This is only the record of me, whatever that is.

I’ve come home to West Virginia these past two weeks, and have almost completely forgotten the stresses of college. Suddenly, the don’t seem relevant, out here in another part of the world. I am releived to feel the stresses fade away, but I wonder, when I graduate, will the lessons fade also? College really has been full of a lot of artificial stress, for me.

At the end of this week, I’ll travel again, this time to Boston. I have never been to Boston before in my life, and yet, in a matter of days, I’ll be living there. Well, technically I’ll be living in Cambridge. Is there a difference? I don’t know.

I won’t know my way around. i won’t know a single person there. I won’t ever have heard anyone speak the way they do.

Somehow, I thrive in this. The state of being a complete stranger, an alien, in an entirely unknown environment, its like being born all over again. (Speaking of “born again” it will also be nice to get away from Tennessee.)

It will be nice to start over. I have grown tired with the expectations that people have of me, in tennessee and in west virginia. I’m expected to be someone I don’t want to be anymore. Its difficult to explain. Something happened to my personality a while ago. It changed. People are slow to take to change, particularly when it comes to the people they feel close to, I think. So, it will be nice to be able to make first impressions all over again.

I am curious to see how the first impressions might differ from the present impressions.

e-mail literature

Grandtextauto published commentary today about a New York Times article that discusses electronic literature.

On one hand, it is nice to see that the New York Times has diverged from their old fixation on “The Death of Print”. During my research for thesis, I got annoyed by the debate. It seems silly to me. I read somewhere the analogy of print to handwriting, noting that we do still write by hand, even after the development of print.

But the “e-mail literature” thing… it seems almost as silly, to me. I remember reading “Dracula” as a kid, it being a book composed of journal entries and letters. When something does electronically what can be done otherwise, unless it is in a dramatically different way, it doesn’t strike me as powerfully, that’s all.

There was a book: “Exegesis” which was an absolute page-turner about a computer that gains consciousness and starts writing to people and doing things. It is in print, of course, but could just as easily have been delivered electronically.

Still, it is good to see that electronic literature is getting some good press.

I have some things to say that resemble the negative press, though.

First of all, the New York Times article does mention: “Intimacies,” by Eric Brown, is drawing notice more for its style than for its content. ” This is sadly so often the case with this type of thing.

The structure of “Intimacies” seems to be such that it over emphasizes the different ways in which messages are transmitted, rather than the kind of messages being transmitted. I’ll have to read the story myself before I make any more comment.

On another note, the article also says

“Mr. Wittig, whose current project is a fictional blog, www.robwit.net, said he believed that Mr. Brown’s interface for “Intimacies” and the composition software he plans to market were the first of their kind.”

This is’t exactly true, and I do get skeptical of too much stress on newness”. I’m sure that the same things this story does can be done with Flash Animation, other conventional web design methods or with Eastgate’s Story Space I will be curious to see what the differences are.

One thing that did get my attention was:

“A second version due this month will deliver the messages at timed intervals, Mr. Brown said, so that reading them will more closely resemble the experience of receiving e-mail and instant messages.”

One of my peers is working on an idea he calls “chronological realism,” where the reader encounters an experience in text, and in time as realistically as possible so that it takes as long to read about an experience as it takes for the experience to happen. It seems likely that electronic media might be fertile ground for experimentation with this sort of thing.

Definitions of Hypertext

Noah Wardrip-Fruin has written a short paper for the ACM Hypertext Conference. It approaches the question, “What Is Hypertext,” and the approach is an interesting one.

He defines the term “hypertext” “as a term coined by a 20th Century thinker ” and it is in this way similar to “natural selection” or “communism.” It follows, then, that the definition of hypertext that is given in this paper is derived very much from the work of Theodore Nelson, who first used the term.

That begs a question, though, about whether or not you get to be the last word on a subject just because you named it. Oh well.

What is really of interest, to this reader, is the emphasis on hypertext as a “responding resource” From Nelson’s work we have:

systems of prearranged words and pictures (for example) which may be explored freely or queried in stylized ways. They will not be “programmed,” but rather designed, written, drawn and edited, by authors, artists, designers and editors.

From my own personal experience with hypertext, I think that there is still a very log way to go before we really have that free exploration, etc. These things, these hypertexts, they ARE programmed. The design, the arrangements, these things are endless possibilities, but until the whole process can be made as simple as basic writing, or drawing, or speaking, then the dynamic qualities of our natural media will be preferred.

Still, this definition is a good one, if for no other reason that it hints at where to go next.

Moving to Boston

A few months ago, after securing my practicum job in the Boston area, I thought, “well that’s just great!” – which I meant as honestly and also as sarcastically as can be imaginied. Of course its great, in that it is a stellar opportunity for me to do something other than school for once in my life. On the other hand, Boston is a very expensive city, and I am a very poor person. I live on Ramen Noodles and college-student ingenuity. Honestly, I wonder how I survive.

I finally found an apartment in Cambridge. All I know about it so far stems from an email from my future roomie:

This room is in a 4-bedroom apartment, which located very close to Kendall Square red line station(5 mins walking), it is about two stops away from harvard and 2 stops away from Downtown Boston. All the roommates are graduate students, I am Ph. D student at Tufts, one is Harvard student, and another is Umass student, he does not show up alot in this apartment, so usally there only are 3 guys living here. We are clean and quiet, and very friendly to people

Here are the pictures I have so far.
My soon-to-be new home

My soon-to-be new home

My soon-to-be new home

Living out of Suitcases

we’re here to go…

and I’m ready for it. I felt like I could have jumped in front of a speeding ambulance today. Exhaustion has taken its toll on me. By this time next week I’ll be in Boston. I’m so excited! although, I still don’t have a place to live. It can be quite daunting, standing on the edge of an entirely new life with: no idea what this new place is like: no where to live: no one to call on or talk to. I can manage. I always do.

Meanwhile, of course, there are last minute responsibilities to tend to, back here in the old life. I spent a couple hours hanging out with old friends, some of whom, I wonder, will I ever see them again, others, I wonder – do I want to?

Most of what I own is in storage now. I’ll live out of two suitcases for several months. I can manage. I have before. I will again.

I’ve got thirty pages to write tonight, a stack of bills to pay, an exam to take, more packing for storage, a loan to apply for, a thesis to correct and turn in after the last minute, a work-study job to manage the completion of. all in a day, all in a day. it can’t be done all in a day. some of it, I wonder, can it be done at all.

It is likely a breech of etiquette to write this way here, but I need to do it for my health, and also to record this strange place. I have the feeling I will want to look back on it and laugh at how it all turned out, however it turns out.

I knew it was time to go several days ago. I attended the “Roast” for the Senior theater students, and was roasted mercilessly. I realized something, the person they described… that’s not me. perhaps it never was, or it was only ever a perception, but I have the distinct impression that all of that is about to change. Perhaps it will help to be a stranger, an alien again.

Not sure when I can write again. It may be a week or two.

I’m off…

[Now Playing: Garbage - So Like A Rose (06:20)]

One man. Alone in the Arctic.


Solo across the North Pole: One man. 1,240 miles. Alone in the Arctic.:
Between February and May 2004, record-breaking polar adventurer Ben Saunders takes on one of the toughest physical challenges ever; a journey that has so far defeated the world’s leading explorers and mountaineers. His aim is to ski solo from Russia to Canada via the North Pole. This 1,240 mile journey has never been completed alone without kites or dogs.”

first of all, this is a fascinating adventure story. in addition, it is beautifully designed, and a testament to what this kind of electronic writing can do for readers.

Early Notes for a Hypertext Thesis

Competition With Cacophony:

To help explain what all this is about, it may help to have a copy of what I used to explain this stuff to the Humanities Professors.

Imagine that, instead of you everyday speaker, I am an ancient European tribal storyteller. That would mean that you, my audience, would not be sitting there so placidly. You’d be eating big slabs of meat, crude food. You would drink mead. It would be considerably colder in here. And I, with my story, would have to compete with all the camaraderie and cacophony of an ancient banquet. I would stand up on the table and yell!

Hwaet!

Bringing the Mountain to Mohamed

In fact, ancient literature often begins with similar attention getting devices. Those devices are have trickled down into today’s texts in a few ways, the lead paragraph of a newspaper article for example. That lead paragraph is weak compared to the ancient method though. A lead paragraph, a bunch of interesting words in print, it assumes you’ve already come to the page of your own accord. It doesn’t bring you to the text the way an ancient storyteller could. Its my contention that nothing in print does.

With all the things competing for people’s attention in our world today, its easy to imagine that whatever doesn’t compete doesn’t get seen, not by most anyway, and whatever isn’t seen by most is lost to most. Today, I would like to propose a method I have devised to make my writing more accessible, because I feel it is the first part of my job as a storyteller. I have found my own contemporary equivalent of yelling from the table. I have found it, first by looking at the things that are already yelling at everyone in society, and which of those actually get their message across, and secondly by examining ways in which my writing might borrow from these things in order for it to communicate more effectively.

Competition With Cacophony

Its an age old problem for storytellers. By Chaucer’s time, he makes a comment about the state of storytelling by integrating his characters’ stories into a contest in order to make them palatable. The promise of a prize, and the thrill of a contest is what keeps them listening.

Shakespeare had to compete with cock-fights. A writer in that day had to capture the attention of the same group of people who could just as easily be down the street watching two animals rend each other to bits. Those people were the bulk of his audience. If a playwright at that time, failed to win the attention of an audience, he would make no money and eat no food. Worse, the words would fall on deaf ears, or none.

The history of literature is dotted with cries for attention, because it is the attention that keeps literature alive. That cry will have to be a lot louder than a measly lead paragraph if it is to compete with all the other objects of our attention. We sit back, say “people should pay attention to literature more often”?, and wish that they did, but people’s attention doesn’t come out of nowhere. A merely wishful attitude will never put food on the storyteller’s table. Even ancient storytellers knew that much. It seems to have been forgotten these days

The language of literature is drowned out in contemporary society. It is drowned out by advertising language. It is drowned out by Cinematic imagery. It is drowned out by televised imagery. It is drowned out by rock lyrics, hip-hop lyrics, country music ballads, all of which could be much more lyrical than they are. If we’re not careful, the language of literature could be drowned out past the point of rescue. That may just be the way of things. The cock fight may win out in the end. What are we going to do about it? Academia insists that people read more “real”

literature, but what if they don’t want to? Personally, I am about to embark on a life’s work that will go unnoticed by most of the people I grew up with, most of my friends, and perhaps even a few of my family members. These people, literature isn’t attractive to them. If they do read anything I write, it will only be because they know me. Contemporary Literature doesn’t do much to attract an audience. It stands on its own merit, but only for those that recognize the merit of literature in the first place. The quality of literature, these days, is a sermon for the choir. The only people who foster an appreciation of literature are the people who read it because they appreciate it in the first place. This is because contemporary literature has lost touch with its ancient attention getting tactics. Gone are the days when literature could coexist with the cacophony of everyday life.

What Does Get Through the Noise?

How do you get that sermon for the choir out to the rest of the congregation? After all, those people need it. The answer to that question lies among the things that do get through to those people, among the things that are communicated to those people. For the most part, the language that gets through to us more than any other is advertising language. Advertising language has published itself on every medium ever known, from telemarketing to Internet banner ads. Its everywhere. I think that those tactics of advertising language are an unused fertile ground for a better language, the language of story. Those are the words that still get yelled from the table. It should be possible to yell just as loudly, and just as well, with different words.

How Would Writing Benefit from This?

If the problem is that Literature is a text that is drowned out and not received, then perhaps the solution lies in a medium designed to receive text. I propose that it should be possible to publish a novel, with a screen where there would be pages, and an audience where there would be none.

Can Writing Adapt to This New Medium?

Of course, a screen in place of a page poses a big set of creative challenges. How on Earth can you honestly expect to fit literature of any merit, let alone substance, onto something that is essentially a television? Volumes of “hypertext theory” have been written about this new medium, and what kinds of texts we can expect to come from it. In general, the most important aspect of this medium is the potential for non-linear communication. I think all of us, as fledgling internet users, quickly mastered the concept of the link. It may take much longer to fully realize its potential. Now, we’re no longer confined by the forced-linear structure of a book, where one pages leads naturally into the next. We can arrange ideas by association, in print, the way we keep them in our heads. It will be difficult to use a conventional plot structure. That’s fine with me. I don’t like the conventional plot structure. I’ll tell you why. The rising-climactic male-orgasmic way of things can not possibly be the only way events unfold. That structure can not possibly be the only one for a story. Its time for something new.

Conclusion

I will be telling a large story made of many smaller parts. The “Plot” will only be apparent as a sense of things comes together in the readers mind, after seeing enough of the text images.

These little snippets, on the screen, are important because they can be read in stolen moments, in line at the grocery store, or while standing on the subway. It will be a good thing to put literature on a screen, because there are so many screens already conveniently in front of so many people. Literature must thrive there, in front of so many people, in the midst of the cacophony of everyday contemporary busy-ness, where a good story might be needed most, if only it were given a moment of attention. Thank you for yours.

First Post

What’s my thesis on? I studied a thing called hypertext literature. One day I sat down and decided to start on thesis. I concluded that it must be interesting to me, and involve as much of my education as possible. I am a writing and communications major with a philosophy minor, and so I wrote an aesthetics for non-linear literature. The premise behind hypertext literature is that storytelling does not need to happen in a this-then-that order.

Think of the old bard. He has come to a particular village, and there is a festival tonight. The noble’ daughter is getting married. Tonight would be a perfect night to tell a part of THE STORY, the part about when the hero comes home finally after all that time, and defeats all the other suitors, and is reunited with his long-lost son, and they all live happily after. But let’s not forget that there is a drunken heckler in this village, as there often is, and the heckler cries “bullshit! There’s no way he could defeat all those suitors”? and the bard knows that this heckler is bored with this bland little story, so he tells the one, also, by way of explanation, that the hero is a crafty man, who can outsmart a giant man-eater with one eye, and there are guts and there is gore, and still the wedding story has been told. That’s the nice thing about THE STORY. It has a clear beginning and a clear end, with plenty of possible beginnings and possible ends in the middle, and it is malleable.

Then, some monk or other showed up a long time later and thought, well, this sure is a cool story, I think I will write it down, and so he wrote it down. Think of it like this: your homework assignment is to write down the story of “star trek”? which is an old show and is only available in syndication. So, you sit down and you watch each episode. Which episode is the first and which is the last, these are obvious. The rest are just episodes. The hero(es) always land on the planet, (or the island) at the beginning, and at the end, they sail off again, so that the stories can come in any order. It doesn’t actually matter at all which one comes when in sequence. This is how syndication works, or episodes, or perhaps even stories in general. And yet, when you write something down in a book, you must have a this-then-that kind of sequence because it is paper, and one page comes before the next.

I argued, in my thesis that thing like hypertext provide us with a new way to write, one which might allow us to write down this aspect of a story, one which might make reading novels more the experience that heckler had, or like the experience of a child hearing a bed time story. I think it is so refreshing and delightful the way children interact with a story. I volunteered for a children’s library one summer, and those kids were merciless with their demands upon a story, and it was great. “this story needs a robot.”? “yeah, a robot named Steve”? “And pirates!”? “And a beautiful maiden”? I could throw up my hands and say “but this is a story about bears!”? or, I could have a whole hell of a lot of fun and try to make everybody happy, and this is how I earned my reputation as a storyteller with the children, as the one and only person that would allow them to heckle. How are they ever going to learn to vote, if they can’t heckle!

“Levels” of Text = Levels of Game

I was reading a discussion of experiences with bots called “unconscious thinking”:

But something feels unduly missing about these artificial minds. I decided to try to understand, why do I have trouble caring about what they have to say? What precisely would they need to do, beyond or instead of what they currently do, to make me care?

this made me think of what kinds of unconscious thinking might actually be useful. AI is a ways off, and in the meantime I’m only able to contend myself with what is alredy out there.

i saw “you do not have permission to read this file” and i thought of the blog and stories and games, and also about a variety of audience, and logins and set permissions… i thought of a story that is like a game, where you get to certain “levels,” in time, levels of permission to read certain texts. I can tell my friends i call it (unofficially) “choose your own adventure, level two.” – go ahead and tell thatm that, sigh, yes, its like one of thsoe choose your own adventure books, except it has a “level two” in it. what happens when you get to level two? you have “permission” to read the level two texts, some of which build on things already past, and some of which are tangents yet to come.

This shouldn’t be too hard to build, though I don’t know how. A text that keeps track of what has been read, which choices were made, perhpas with a watchful eye toward content preferences. Perhpas there could even be a small number of different “kinds” of level two within the text.

I have these ideas, and then i get stuck for a while trying to think of what kind of story would lend itself well to this kind of a presentation.

From The Front

“complete dissatisfaction with everything I have done in writing … Unless writing has the danger and immediate urgency of bullfighting it is nowhere to my way of thinking … I am tired of sitting behind the lines with an imperfect recording device receiving inaccurate bulletins … I must reach the Front.”

William S. Burroughs, a letter to Alan Ansen,
Qtd. in “Whoever Can Pick Up a Frying Pan Owns Death”

I read that, and then I received an invitation.

I’ve received an e-mail today. It is an invitation, addressed to several of us Maryville College students. We have been invited to be “‘reporters from the field’ this summer as you embark on your various experiences.” I liked the idea, so I accept the invitation. It appeals to me for several reasons. I’ve already got a stack of unanswered letters, a bored journal, a new web log with no direction yet, scattered friends who would like to keep up, and now this… I think I can solve all these problems.

The invitation is to write these reports from the field as: “one or two paragraphs two to three times per week about what you are doing, how your College classes have helped you with your internship and how your internship experience will help you once you get back to MC. Tell us about new experiences and how you feel about them, about the new culture you are discovering or the challenges you are facing. Your friends, parents, teachers, and colleagues will be able to get a small picture of what you are learning and doing this summer by accessing the Reports From The Fieldfromthe front page of the College website

Sleep Deprivation

I have been exhausted, inside and out, and so I haven’t had the energy enough for everything. Today, I did it all anyway, even though I hadn’t slept – even though I was up all night working on a presentation. Nanoscale electronics.. the wave of the future… venture capitalism… things I don’t understand! Well, things I didn’t understand. Our presentation was a success. The presentation wasn’t the only thing that kept me up all night.

I doubt my reader will believe me. I also doubt that I can’t solve all these writing problems all at once, or all with the same material. I might keep some distance between some stories and others, who knows?

You’re not going to believe this: last night, I did prepare for the presentation, and a ghost from the past arrived. she said “I’ve died, dylan. I’m dead.” she’s a radical feminist, a lesbian, of sorts, I think, and she is a stripper. she kept me company all night. and no, she didn’t strip. strippers don’t always strip. This is why I’m unsure you will believe me, that I could first of all do my work with a stripper in the room, and that with a stripper in the room, alone, with me, all we did was talk, and catch up on old times. You may also find it difficult to believe that I should have old times to catch-up on, with a stripper of all people. I don’t know what you will believe. I don’t know who I am writing to right now, but surely you won’t believe me when I say that she really was dead.

That’s a tangent though. I’ll come back to that.

Homeless

I found a story that hit me kind of close to home: the story of a homeless college student. It looks like this guy has some readers.