Saturday, September 30, 2006

MOO                  Oh, how boring it must
/                    be to be a cow.
(__)      (__)                 \                   (__)
(oo)      (oo)                  _______            (oo)
/-------\/        \/-------\          //  ||\ \            \/-------
/ |     ||          ||     | \   _____//___||_\ \___         ||     | * 
||----||          ||----||  *  )  _          _    \        ||----||  *
^^    ^^          ^^    ^^     |_/ \________/ \___|        ^^    ^^
______________________________________\_/________\_/__________________________

ASCII-art cows here!



----


And now for some traditional plink de plonk fayre.
1.
2. (everything in its wrong place)

Sunday, September 24, 2006

A waterloo station roof moment.

On an aeroplane, on the runway at Salzburg at night. Near the back in an aisle seat. Sitting with strangers, companions spread around the plane. Not much leg room, but cool, not stuffy. Following a busy, fun 2 days. Looking forward to getting home. Tired but awake. Listening to music: Ben Folds, Still Fighting It. Properly listening. In a little world. An announcement is made, then the main cabin lights go off and it is wonderfully dark.

All down the rows little arms with little hands on reach up to switch on their little personal beams of light overhead, to light up pages to read. Through something in that moment I felt a bond with all those people reaching for light, bare arms illuminated, half in shadow. We were the same.

I sat there freshly unburdened, and looked to my left at the window. Coloured lights appeared, slid past, getting faster, and then as the full accelleration of the plane kicked in the music in my ears entered a slow building crescendo. Just as the nose of the plane lifts up and the runway falls away, the big drum break hits and I smile at the cheesily perfect movie soundrack synchronicity, and the feeling that plane seems to be floating up on the music, and anything seems possible.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Wikipedia:Sandbox/Poetry

There's a page on Wikipedia, called Wikpedia:Sandbox/Poetry, where people can write poems. What's cool about it is that it's 100% non-official. It's obscure, and just kinda nestling there in the armpit of the behemoth that is WP. A few days ago I decided to add a poem to the page, it's near the bottom.

(meta)physics

when you suck the air out of a
thin glass vessel, it's not the vacuum
that makes it smash, it's the air
on the outside pushing in



I just noticed that some anonymous person, somewhere in the world, added another one right after it:

(meta)(meta)physics

every time a soul fails in a
human being, it's not old age
that makes it die, it's the people
on the outside pushing in



How cool!

Here is a link to said page: Wikpedia:Sandbox/Poetry

Friday, September 15, 2006

Some news—

Am Dienstag gehe ich nach München, zum Oktoberfest!
(Und es ist das größte Volksfest der Welt!)
On Tuesday I will go to Munich, to the Oktoberfest!
(Did you like what I did with the links there?)


Some twanging
on this twangy toy guitar.
(Sound archive #2)

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Beginner's mind

Beginner's mind is a concept in Zen Buddhism, often referred to by its Japanese name shoshin (初心) or (much less commonly) nyuanshin. As the name suggests, it refers to having an attitude of openness, eagerness, and lack of preconceptions when studying a subject, even when studying at an advanced level, just as a beginner in that subject would.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

More brilliance

(p89):
Imagine you can see the whole Number Line and every one of the infinite individual points it comprises. Imagine you want a quick and easy way to distinguish those points corresponding to rational numbers from the ones corresponding to irrationals. What you're going to do is ID the rational points by draping a bright-red hankie over each one; that way they'll stand out. Since geometric points are technically dimensionless, we don't know what they look like, but we know that it's not going to take a very big red hankie to cover one. The red hankie can in truth be arbitrarily small, like say .00000001 units, or half that size, or half that half, etc. Actually, even the smallest hankie is going to be unnecessarily large ...
I hope you enjoyed imagining an infinite number of infinitely small red hankies as much as I did.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Sound archive

Or "stuff I found on my minidisc recorder". A charming trumpet/piano duet by my dad and I; the eleventh of January, two thousand and six; Saturday; ten to twelve.

no shit

Covent garden busker
with your guitar on your lap
You played the music inside my head
It was the most beautiful music I ever heard

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Apocalypse

Yesterday evening there was some excitement. All the lights and televisions and computers went off, and all the local burglar alarms went on. For there had been a power-cut.

It was a strange moment. People came to their front doors; the evening was gloomy but not dark. Because I'm odd, I placed my minidisc recorder outside and got the sound of the alarms dying as their batteries expire (as cars pass by, as the wind blows, as a dog barks, as someone starts playing a piano...)

Extract from book

The book is called Eveything and More: A Compact History of ∞ and it's by David Foster Wallace. I'm really enthused about it at the moment, it's philosophy/maths and beautifully written with a refresingly direct but also esoteric style that I really dig. It's about historical struggles with the concept of infinity, with particular reference to Georg Cantor.

First notable extract (p3, footnote):
In modern medical terms, it's fairly clear that G.P.L.F. Cantor suffered from manic-depressive illness at a time [1800s] when nobody knew what this was, and that his polar cycles were aggravated by professional stresses and disappointments, of which Cantor had more than his share. Of course, this makes for less interesting flap copy than Genius Driven Mad By Attempts To Grapple With ∞. The truth, though, is that Cantor's work and it's context are so totally interesting and beautiful that there's no need for breathless Promethiusizing of the poor guy's life. The real irony is that the view of ∞ as some forbidden zone or road to insanity—which view was very old and powerful and haunted math for 2000+ years—is precisely what Cantor's work overturned. Saying that ∞ drove Cantor mad is like mourning St. George's loss to the dragon; it's not only wrong but insulting.

(Isn't that blazingly clear and refreshing writing?)

Second notable extract (p41):
The standard way [of dealing with the Paradox of Galileo] is to declare infinite sets the math equivalent of unicorns ... The other—which is revolutionary, both intellectually and psychologically—is to treat Galileo's paradoxical equivalence not as a contradiction but as a description of a certain new kind of mathematical entity [as G. Cantor did]... Except on the other hand such an attitude could not be revolutionary but merely insane. Rather like taking the fact that nobody's ever once seen a unicorn as claiming ... that unicorns constitute a whole new kind of animal with the property of invisibility. Here of course we get The Fine Line Between Brilliance and Madness that modern writers/filmmakers dine out on. The truth is that all manner of strange [concepts] originally entered math under the same sort of insanity/incoherence cloud but are now totally accepted, even essential.

There's lots more (ob-viously) and I haven't finished it yet but cool huh? And appropriate to the current topic in comments.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Poem from dream

As I awoke this A.M. I was definitely composing a poem. Something to do with a crack den being busted by police.


They called it a 'cracking up'
To turn an assembly into an incident
100 free policemen were dispatched
and the scientific branch from Plymouth

Sunday, September 03, 2006

!!!!