Light in your head and dead on your feet

So the world is ending because some birds and fish died in smaller quantities than you would find in a supermarket freezer. Quoth The Examiner:
While no one person, not even self-proclaimed prophets, know if God of the Christian Bible is now ushering mankind into the End Times, many believe this week's dead birds and fish are a sign the Great Tribulation talked about in the book of Revelation and Daniel is fast approaching.
Other signs: Gerry Rafferty is dead, and Agnetha wants ABBA to reform. Birds and fish flock, so they're more likely to go down in scores, surely? I'm impressed that there are any fish left to wash up, given the quantities in which we net them. More seriously, how will the fragile-minded react to official news outlets contemplating the end of everything? The Northern Line was delayed with a person in front of the train today: death is always a single stride away. The Gaia theory is to 2010 what nuclear war was to the Reagan / Thatcher years: now is not the time to shout fire.

And China has a Stealth bomber. (This is of interest to me because I'm a guy.) The US spins arms tech at a slower rate than the Chinese but the key point is that China now has the money to invest in expensive and unreliable technology. The B2, famously, can't stand the rain:
Testing indicated that B-2s are also sensitive to extreme climates, water, and humidity-- exposure to water or moisture can damage some of the low-observable enhancing surfaces on the aircraft. Further, exposure to water or moisture that causes water to accumulate in aircraft compartments, ducts, and valves can cause systems to malfunction. If accumulated water freezes, it can take up to 24 hours to thaw and drain. Air Force officials said it is unlikely that the aircraft's sensitivity to moisture and climates or the need for controlled environments to fix low-observability problems will ever be fully resolved, even with improved materials and repair processes.
The Newton of arms tech, in other words. Relax! Global warming will have killed us by the time it's operational.

I love Gerry Rafferty's 'Baker Street.' When I came to London in 1978 it was all over the radio. I'll forever associate it with the first Kate Bush album, the smell of bacon and eggs on a gas stove, loneliness and bad weather.

Postscript: AP science report here. ("The irony is that mass die-offs - usually of animals with large populations - are getting the attention while a larger but slower mass extinction of thousands of species because of human activity is ignored.")

Miss January, and the future of publishing

When I killed Twitter a friend consoled me by saying, well, the only thing you ever posted about was writing. Marginalia is the opposite: my scrapbook of distractions: movies, TV, January Jones' black eyes like a doll's eyes. (Actually they're blue but the show is graded.) So if you follow this blog, 2011 will be more of the same. When I had a home my wall was pinned with all kinds of crap. Thanks to technology, anyone can share in my Many Wastes of Time.

But then last night I was nosing around the torrents, as you do, and wondered, hey, what .epub files are out there? And in less than ten seconds I had downloaded three commercial best sellers. The speed itself was unsurprising: the total works of Shakespeare are around 5 megabytes – less than a single pop song at 128kbps – and the books in question were around 500k. I've been told by programmers and developers that DRM protected ebooks are easily cracked, which makes sense: the format is XHTML, which is designed for sharing, and its contents are text only, with maybe a cover graphic.

The ease of access was enlightening. If you are faced with the choice of buying an ebook for the hardback cover price or downloading it for free faster than you can cough, is the "new" publishing business model sound? Computer users are more savvy than ever, networks are faster, storage devices are of greater capacity and cheaper – and the commercial object being illegally traded is, proportionally, smaller and easier to hack. We're talking the average size of an email here. Publishers may be trading on the basis of free distribution sooner than they think.

JJ pic c/ GQ, as per usual.

Jazz flute 2011

Must get out of the house now...

Where there are daiquiris, there is happiness*


Happy New Year, everyone.

* © Chad Taylor 2008

L*z

"There's a part of me that doesn't want to be a career bitch at all. That wants to raise children and arrange flowers and host bunco nights. I want to grow my nails so long and wear clothes so delicate I can't function without a man. That turns me on. And yet at the same time, I want to do the rock thing."... I hand her the pen. In script that would make Emily Post proud, she writes: "Thank you! I took the best crap!"
I love Liz Phair more every day. This and other things Katy Perry will never say here. Here she is again in a Speakers in Code interview:
Finish this sentence: The hardest thing about being a musician in today's society is...

The same thing that has plagued the artist for centuries. Most people focus on externals, don't place a premium on their inner life, so the artist, whose job it is to nurture that inner life, is subject to undervaluation at the marketplace. Yet if you removed us, the world would quickly feel the absence!
I agree with that view, the exclamation point not so much.

I, Candy

Tron Legacy is incredibly pretty. Fanboys are complaining because it's slow and wordy but so was Tron, so it's keeping with the spirit of the original. I'll write some more about it when my writing muscles have returned... Basically between the light cycles and some average "fight" sequences it's Kubrick's uplit Regency Louis XVI look from the end of 2001 and sparky spacegirls and a nightclub to pill out for, and a pretty fine story, at least thematically – so big ups to the six (ahem) credited writers. I enjoyed it because it was relaxing for the eyes as well as the mind. I was pleased when Quorra turned up, and then Gem arrived and I was even more pleased. If only it wasn't so slow and wordy...

Instant Rothko


Or Rayograph.