MiamiGirl posits an interesting question: Do Miamians read blogs? Outside of the insular (some might say incestuous) circle of bloggers* reading each others' sites, how many people make blogs part of their infotainment routine?

I know that Hidden City gets a fair number of comments from people who don't have their own sites, which is something I appreciate. I also know that there are people who read and never comment, both from statistical analysis and direct e-mail comments and remarks. Once such reader, who providentially called as I was composing this entry, said she is intimidated by the "regulars" and the cliquishness and in-jokes. I can understand that feeling. When the Miami blogging community was "created" last fall, I felt like the mad old cave-dwelling hermit in the woods coming out of exile and finding a whole new town full of recent immigrants had sprung up like a fairy circle. It took me a while to feel like I was sufficiently up to speed on the communal dynamics to leave comments.

So here's a(n insignificantly small) challenge. Do you visit but avoid commenting? Well, shake off that shroud of shyness and say something, just this once. Use a pseudonym if you like — I wouldn't blame you, particularly if you read from work like most visitors — and say hello.

And my fellow bloggers, please chime in with your own views. Do you think anyone is out there reading blogs in South Florida?

*Damn, I still hate that word.

I admit it, I use a lot of Google products. While it's taken me a while, I'm getting used to Gmail, and of course I'm still a Blogger user (in spite of appearances). I use Google Talk on those rare occasions where I need an IM service, and Google Calendar is working its way into my routine, as well. My Firefox homepage is Google's personalized portal, And then there's Google Analytics, Picasa, Writely, Google Earth, and about a million other tools. (Did you know they are also a search engine?)

Now today they are making their long-rumored move into on-line payment processing with Google Checkout. If you are shopping on-line and see the Google blue cart icon, one click and you are done. The vendor doesn't even get your credit card number, bank information, or e-mail address unless you want them to have it. It sounds promising, and I've been a pretty solid supporter of Paypal since the early days. (Yes, I've heard the horror stories, but so far I've not experienced them first hand.) I can't really explain why, but I trust Google more than I trust most other companies. They must have great subliminals in those TextAds.

Given the way they are expanding, and their business philosophy of not being evil, I am hoping the next few years will see the launch of Google Democracy. Hey, if we're going to sell our nation to the highest bidder, I'd rather it be "One nation, under Google," than any alternatives. They'd get it right.

Last night I spoke with my ex-wife. She called out of the blue, two years since our last conversation. It seems she was doing some reorganization at home and came across a box of old photos she thought I might like to have, and took a chance that I hadn't changed my cell number.

We chatted pleasantly enough for a few minutes, though it was a bit distant, as might be expected. She offered to mail the photos to me, we exchanged inquiries as to health and family, that sort of thing. Toward the end of the call I asked if it might be possible to meet for coffee some time, on her turf, just to chat. There was a bit of hesitation, then she said "I don't think it would be a good idea. [My husband] would not like that at all."

I demurred, saying that I wouldn't want to cause a problem. And that was the end of the call.

The past, to be sure, is the past, and it isn't as though I harbor some unresolved desire to rekindle an old flame. But I admit, this makes me more than a little sad. I wasn't suggesting some clandestine rendezvous, just a chat between old friends over a cup of coffee. Our divorce was amicable, we tried to stay in touch, and there wasn't any rancor. What happened, then, to put me in the category of people who might provoke anger in her spouse?

I suppose I'll never really know.

I am beginning to suffer a bit of outrage fatigue. I've been going through spells of it for the last, say, twenty-five years, but it's been particularly bad for the last six.

Let's be serious. Just off the top of my head we have the wholesale destruction of civil liberties under the guise of fighting a war against an abstract concept (only the most recent in a long series of such endeavors, I admit); the removal of a kindergarten travel book because it raises ugly memories for a tiny segment of the local population; the Bush administration's cavalier mocking of the idea of separation of powers; the attempts by the telephone and cable companies to divide up Internet access into tiered packages (and to pretend to be in favor of lower prices at the same time); and the créme de la créme of idiocy at the moment, a flag "desecration" amendment.

As a free speech absolutist, this offends me more than you can possibly imagine. I have honestly lost sleep over this outrageous attempt to stifle legitimate dissent.

But here, read the inestimable Mr. Klotz' remarks. Just assume his anger is half mine and you'll be okay.

I've never done it before, but if this amendment is passed, I will be burning some flags, you betcha. Whole heaps of 'em, until I can sleep again.

So I've heard enough people talking out their asses about the corrupting horrors contained within Vamos a Cuba that I decided I needed to see it for myself. I ordered the Spanish language version, and a friend ordered the English. The Vamos a... series includes Spanish language books on Columbia, Costa Rica, Cuba, and Puerto Rico, while the English edition — A Visit to... — includes twenty-four nations in its itinerary. The books all feature large print, colorful photos, and a simplistic style which befits their intended audience.

Enlisting the aid of an anonymous Cuban-American friend, I read the Spanish version first, later reading the English version. From this exposure, I can tell you one thing: no child is going to think Cuba is anything but an impoverished third world nation. I mean, the main thing Cubans eat is white rice! For fun they have to swim or go to baseball games — no video games, no McDonalds, no TV! The book even says the only cars are old American beaters, and most people take the bus. And as if going to school wasn't bad enough, you have to work every day, too!

And yet somehow this is a ringing endorsement of the Castro regime?

But here, make up your own mind. In a flagrant violation of copyright, here is the full English text of A Visit to Cuba. If I receive a request from the publishers, I will gladly take it down; however, I'm trying to help them out here.

I have friends who work in executive recruiting, so I hear the inside stories of HR hell — how often laws and policies regarding "don't ask, don't tell" situations are circumvented through informal phone calls and non-work e-mail addresses, and so on. And since American business has moved away from an environment of rewarding employee skills and loyalty and toward a system of advancement through job-hopping, I know human resource professionals are just trying to cope with the changing times.

So I wonder why anyone is surprised by this Information Week story about employers using Google, MySpace, and other Internet tools and off-hours sites to check up on potential and current employees. With the amount of personal information people publish on-line through social networking sites or blogs, it is easy for an employer to use informal discrimination. No need to go to the expense of having someone pee in a cup if their blog has a link to NORML, right? Of if you think that heavy metal music is the tool of Satan, then you can easily exclude an otherwise well-groomed candidate once you see their pentagram-laden MySpace page. Let's not even discuss what happens to the applicant who runs a personals ad.

I'm more interested in the long view. While those of us over forty are in the significant minority as regards personal publishing in the on-line space, it is ubiquitous in the middle-class twenty-something set. As they age, will we have an entire generation kept out of executive positions based on their digital trail? Or will America be forced to adapt and accept lifestyle choices and identities previously kept behind closed doors?

Update: Alesh provided this link to an article about wiping your digital fingerprints off the web.

Porch view looking south-east, Sunday morning

It is undoubtedly a gloomy Sunday. I'm certain Björk would agree.

As of this afternoon, anyway, a Google search for "book banning and Cubans" returns Hidden City as the first hit.

Although on reflection, perhaps I should be a little more circumspect in using the term "hit" in conjunction with this story.

From Neil Gaiman, on writing:

The lady on the plane next to me yesterday explained, when I told her I was a writer, that as a former English Major she had had dreams of being a major novelist, but she was making a living instead, and she hoped to one day have enough free time to write.

And I remembered Gene Wolfe getting up at 5.00 am every day and writing two pages before going in to work, and I told her that if she wanted to be a writer she ought to write. ("It's like most jobs," I told. "It's amazing how much of it just consists of showing up." But she didn't believe me.)

An anonymous commenter, on my hurricane preparedness post:

This Costco Nutristorage Emergency Food Supply — "Three month food supply for one person", Item # 104893, for $109.99 — is a FRAUD. You will STARVE TO DEATH if you try to survive on the contents of this for 3 months. I purchased this myself. Then I thought it was strange that 25 pounds, 2 ounces (that is about 11.4 kilos) of food could sustain someone for three entire months. That is only about 4.4 ounces or 127 grams of food per day. It can't possibly have very many calories. So I opened the bucket, and counted the number of packets of each item. Then I used 5 servings per packet, and took the nutritional information for each item from the bucket. I put all of this into an Excel spreadsheet and came up with totals from the entire bucket, and what you would get on average per day. The entire contents of the bucket would include 275 servings, which is 91-2/3 days at 3 servings per day. The entire bucket contains 41,715 calories and 1,660 grams of protein. The average daily nutritional value would be 455 calories and 18 grams of protein. To put things in perspective, the Nazis provided concentration camp inmates at Auschwitz with a diet of 1,300 calories per day for light work prisoners and 1,700 calories for hard labor. The average prisoner at Auschwitz died of starvation within three months on this diet. Of the many millions murdered by the Nazis at Auschwitz, probably just as many died from the effects of starvation as perished in the infamous gas chambers. There is no way anyone can survive for long on 455 calories and 18 grams of protein per day. That is less than one-third of the starvation diet that the Nazis provided at Auschwitz. You will almost certainly be DEAD from STARVATION before you finish the alleged "three month" supply.

And here's a little quote from George Bernard Shaw which is always relevant, but particularly so these last few years.

When a stupid man is doing something he is ashamed of, he always declares that it is his duty.

Here's a little exercise in conspiracy theory and pointless political theorizing for you. Given that Fidel has been in power for coming up on 50 years, and given that it is a hideous dictatorship bereft of humanity, and given that the US has denounced the regime ad nauseum for decades, why is the old man still in power? He's ninety miles from the US — how hard can it be to send a few troops over to blow him out of his palace?

I ask this not because I'm advocating it, but because I am genuinely curious as to any potential reasons why we haven't intervened. We are willing to send troops into inhospitable regions around the world to overthrow corrupt and/or anti-American governments, so why haven't we gone into tropical and easily resupplied Havana? And before anyone goes there, it isn't some liberal thing. The Republicans have controlled the government for many years longer than the Democrats, and they passed up plenty of chances to act.

I have three personal theories, of varying degrees of crackpottiness.

• There are still nukes in Cuba. They may or may not launch, but those in power know about the deal between JFK and the Kremlin that allowed them to stay, and they don't want to take any chances.
• Fidel knows the truth about the Kennedy assassination. Maybe the Mafia guys who organized the hit were camped in Cuba, and Fidel had them bugged. Ever since he's been using the information to keep his power.
• The Republicans know that an anti-Fidel stance is the only thing they have in common with the Cuban voting bloc, so they don't want to lose that by resolving the situation. Plus they provide newsworthy distractions from time to time.

So what say you, my well-educated and highly opinionated readers? Why is the Bearded One still around and living a short missile's throw away from Miami? Feel free to indulge whatever paranoid fantasies you may have, or to teach this ill-mannered American a thing or two about realpolitik.

My thanks to Maximus of Voltage for pointing me to this NYC public service announcement. It is one of the finest and creepiest things I have seen this year, but then, I do so love David Lynch...

And on the other end of the spectrum, while still related, we have the musical stylings of Crispin Hellion Glover.

American Civil Liberties Union of Florida, Inc., Greater Miami Chapter, et. al. v. Miami-Dade County School Board.

In other news, my Spanish version of Vamos a Cuba arived yesterday, via the communists at Amazon.com. Once I put it side-by-side with the English version I'll give you my review.

Through circumstances too complex to recount, I had dinner at Smith and Wollensky last evening. The food was very good, and the view outside the private room's window was also quite nice.

I have had this recurring dream since I was a child. There are actually a few of them, repetitive images and scenes, stock footage if you like, churned around into themes to suit the arcane needs of my unconscious mind. It is as if someone is remixing my persona on a nightly basis. The frequency is irregular, though, largely unpredictable; this particular dream I haven't had for months. I wonder what it means?

Probably nothing. As I said, I've had this dream since childhood.

"A lot of people imagine that mashup culture is something unique to the digital age, but it goes all the way back to Benjamin Franklin taking popular songs and changing the lyrics to make a comment or a protest about a political situation."

From an interview with the authors of Tales from the Public Domain: BOUND BY LAW?, a comic explaining the principles of copyright and fair use, and how they have gone wrong over the last few decades. The authors believe in their premise, as they are giving away the book under a Creative Commons license.

Back in April I set up an experimental calendar using the new Google Calendar service. It's been freely available to anyone interested in using the service to track events at the New World Symphony and/or Fairchild Tropical Garden, but it hasn't gotten much traffic. That's understandable, since using it required you to either have software installed that could read iCal format files, or a Google Calendar account.

Fortunately, though, Google never sleeps. A new feature allows you to display your calendar on your own site, while still giving the option of subscribing via other programs. See for yourself.

As a public service I added the entire inaugural season for the Miami Performing Arts Center, as well as updating the Fairchild events and the 2006/2007 NWS season. (Why these institutions don't provide iCal links is beyond me, but I suppose the concept of websites is still new to most arts organizations.) I am certainly open to suggestions as to additional events to include, particularly in the realm of art. Drop me a line.

Korea's Odd-i N700D portable TV

I don't watch enough television to make one of these worthwhile, but I confess to be a certain fascination with the portable TVs available in the Asian markets. They use certain proprietary formats not in use in the US (DMB, for example) to send a digital signal to handheld sets that utilize LCD screens for a thin and light set you can take with you anywhere. Without a picture tube the battery life is much longer, and a 7" screen reduces the eyestrain considerably.

But what is it about television that makes people want to have it with them all the time? I'm a poor example, since I don't even have basic cable, and my rabbit ears only get a couple of ghostly, fuzzy channels. Still, plenty of people seem to want that immediate gratification that is only provided by watching game shows while driving.

*Anyone get the reference?

"Okay, enough with the heavy-handed political shit, guy. Talk about something else for a change."

"Okay, fine. Got any suggestions?"

"Sure. Don't you have an entire Drafts folder full of half-baked ideas and 'Isn't this cool?' links? Use some of them."

"But I'm only halfway through my non-stop month of posting — what if I run out?"

"Ooh, and you mean actually have to work for material? You'll survive. Besides, half those links are probably dead by now."

"True enough..."

My friend Maud Newton was listed in the current issue of Entertainment Weekly as one of the 100 best entertainment sites. Of course, I imagine Maud's rather blasé about it, seeing as she's virtually a media personality these days. Still, congratulations, Maud!

Perhaps it is just my bias toward moody, esoteric, piano work showing through, but the Pianolina is one of the cleverest Flash toys I've seen for a long while. You may find yourself spending far too much time playing with it.

This is for an unnamed friend: How to tie a tie in classsic Brooks Brothers fashion. (Of course, I only know one knot, myself. Perhaps I should study it a bit, too.

Dear School Board members Hantman, Logan, Barerra, Perez, and Bolaños:

You are an embarrassment to education and to America. When the opportunity presented itself to demonstrate the strength of reason over emotion, you choose to act from emotion rather than reason. I should expect no less from you, but I keep hoping that exposure to actual educators might teach you something.

Since your decision is based on the idea that a children's book which doesn't accurately depict the harsh realities of its subject should not be used, do you have the courage to enforce this policy fairly across the entire kindergarten curriculum? Should we require that a children's travel book about Miami include photos of hungry homeless children huddled beneath an overpass, to illustrate Miami's status as one of America's poorest cities? Can there be a realistic kid's book about sports without a discussion of steroids? Shall we ban American history books that do not depict the rape and mutilation of African slaves in the name of progress? I mean, we're trying to be accurate here, right? This can't only be about your pathetic pandering to your political base in an election year, can it?

I understand that Cuba is important to you, and I understand why. And I know all too well how easy it is to let passion overwhelm reason. But you have a responsibility to the people who elected you to put aside your personal feelings and do what is right for the children you are supposed to help teach. Explain to me how stripping this book from the shelves will do anything positive for the kids; for bonus points, do so without referring to Cuba as a "special case," somehow different from the hundreds of thousands of other immigrants who came here fleeing communism and dictatorships.

Right now your actions are encouraging hatred and bigotry against Cuban-Americans, many of whom disagree with your decision. There is simply no logic to deciding to remove a book from a library for political purposes, and then disingenuously claiming that it isn't a trick from Fidel's playbook. I have friends and loved ones who are Cuban, and proud of their heritage; they are receiving the brunt of the backlash to your opportunism via perceived guilt by association.

Even now the ACLU and other organizations are preparing the legal challenge which will overturn this blatantly unconstitutional action. Only one question remains: how much money are you will to steal from Miami's children's education to pay the legal fees for your political maneuvering?

Rick has a great collection of links and some good introductory analysis of the swiftly approaching court case involving the Committee for Politically Motivated Book Banning and the ACLU. If you think that the school board is right in their decision to censor books for purely political purposes without any regard for educational propriety, read these links. You may change your mind.

And while you are at it, give a call [305/995-1334] over to the Book Banning Board and let them know what you think about their individual stances. After all, we should let the three sentient members know we appreciate their efforts to uphold American values.

Last night, on getting the news that the five Hispanic members of the Miami-Dade Country School board love Castro so much they are bringing his policies to Miami, I flew into a venomous rage. I was so incensed that I wrote a screed so vitriolic I am certain I would have started my car one fine morning and been blown into so much picadillo. After all, if a black school board member says he was afraid to vote against the Cubans because he feared for the safety of his loved ones, then what chance would a lone gringo blogger have?

But as I have learned the hard way, it is often best to let such a stew simmer for a while before serving it to the public, and this morning I decided that it just wasn't the kind of thing I want to post here. Not out of fear, mind you — I am perfectly willing to call out an opportunistic political hack or a witless lickspittle toady whenever the need arises — but anger doesn't always produce quality prose.

This evening I received a lovely message from the ACLU, however. It reads, in part:

The ACLU of Florida's Greater Miami Chapter is currently talking with potential plaintiffs who are interested in combating this censorship. If you or anyone you know has a child(ren) in a Miami-Dade elementary school and would like to join the ACLU in this important fight -- either as a named plaintiff or anonymously -- have them contact Nathalie at: [number redacted].

Since the message was sent to ACLU friends and members I'm leaving the phone number off this message, to try and reduce the volume of crank calls my friend Nathalie has to take. If you want to help — and I hope you will — leave me a comment and I'll send you the number.

As much as I would prefer to simply wait for these blustering fools to die off and let people who understand freedom of speech take leadership in the Cuban-American community, they have created such a culture of fear and hatred that it has spread down to the successive generations. We can only hope that the intelligent, freedom-loving youth of the community will continue to learn to fight back against the exilios.

A while ago I heard of an interesting project to change the way movies are made: A Swarm of Angels. In their own words, "A Swarm of Angels is a new way to create cult media. The project is a giant new media experiment to gather 50,000 people paying £25 each to create a new type of movie." Still confused? So was I.

The premise is this. Copyright is strangling art and entertainment, particularly in America, where the needs of the community (and public) always take a back seat to corporate interests. Additionally, creating modern films takes more money than individuals can generally raise, so the end product belongs to corporations who tightly control the use and distribution. But if the big money industries are cut out of the loop, and a film is made from individual contributions, the whole structure changes. The contributors ("angels") each own the whole thing. The music, the script, the film, everything, to do with as they please. Want to offer it up for a free download on your site? Go for it. Like the music? Sample and remix to your heart's content. You bought it, you get to decide its fate.

For me — yes, I signed up, making it perhaps the first and only time I could be accurately described as an angel — being a part of the creative process was the hook. All aspects of the film — script, casting, music, art, marketing — will be discussed, debated, and formed by the Swarm. Matt Hanson, the project's originator, will create the original drafts, and will direct the final film, but will do so with the input of the contributors. It should be an interesting process to watch.

Of course, it could also turn into a trainwreck of mythic proportions. It appears to be off to a slow start, with relatively few angels in the swarm, and little activity on the members-only message board. The first two podcasts have been released, though, featuring music from artists under consideration for the soundtrack chores, and they are quite good. So far I am cautiously optimistic about the project.

Here are a few posts and essays of interest from my regular haunts.

• From the Wide Lawns Subservient Worker we get this tale of a fistful of nature run amok among the elite and effete.
• Filmbrain — one of the best film commentary sites I've found to date — discusses the Greatest Story Ever Retold in Christ at 32fps.
• Famous author, gracious fellow, and blogger Neil Gaiman provides romantic advice to one of his fans.
• Alexa Kitchen is the daughter of underground comix publisher Denis Kitchen, and a talented comics writer and illustrator in her own right. She is also seven years old.
• The always fabulous Manola visited the sex convention on Miami Beach and lived to tell. Read about it in BYOB: Bring Your Own Batteries.

I hope that'll hold you little bastards.

If there is there anything better than returning to your office after a week away at training and dealing with the tremendous backlog of work awaiting your solomonic decisions, it would be returning to the office and the stacks of projects needing review when there is a storm coming in and you are on the emergency operations team.

So Alberto, you'd better hold off on your promotion until Friday so I can win Rick's contest! I mean it...

Say hello for Tropical Storm Alberto, the first Atlantic sector tropical cyclone of 2006 to get a name.

It doesn't look as though Alberto is any threat to South Florida, I'm still impressed that we managed to get something to Tropical Storm status just eleven days into the season. If it manages to turn into a hurricane on Saturday, I'll win the Stuck on the Palmetto Blowin' in the Wind contest, too! Fat chance of that, though; by Saturday it'll just be a warm breeze in Providence.

Having made it home in the proper number of pieces, I am now dealing with the after-effects of five-and-a-half days away, many of which I do not wish to speak of at this time.

The most difficult aspect of returning home from a trip is the lack of housekeeping. Five nights in a room where the maid comes in and vacuums, cleans the shower, makes the bed, and generally tidies up throws into stark contrast my own shortcomings in this area. While I do not live in filth, my house is cluttered with the paraphenalia of my life — books, CDs, DVDs, artwork, tchokes, et cetera — and the rambling and wrestling of the cats across the shelves and stacks keeps things in a constant state of disorder. (Yes, I live alone, why do you ask?) Plus, the sound of a vacuum on a hardwood floor gives me an immediate migraine, so there does tend to be the occasional cat-sized drift of shed fur.

But it is home, and I am in it, and I suppose that's all that should matter right now. But I still wish I had a maid.

The concierge at the hotel and the instructors at the training facility agreed that we needed to leave the hotel at 3pm to have a decent chance of making a 7:30pm flight, to account for the rush hour traffic and the long security checkpoints at the airport. So we dutifully started our southbound trip at 3:00.

Of course, now I'm sitting in the Atlanta airport, with still another hour to kill before they start boarding the plane. We've already wandered around through the shops and had a bite to eat at Chili's, and so now we're reading the books we had saved for the flight. Ah, well, better this than running full-tilt through the concourse carrying all my gear begging for them to hold the gate just another minute.

dialog05 is a collective of German industrial designers who have a peculiar fascination with USB. It's a fun and interesting conceit, and one perfectly inline with my own sensibilities; as much as I would like to imagine I am old school (being a writer and all that), data is an essential to me as food, water, and dialogue. [via Wired magazine]

The photo is a little blurry, but it was the best I could manage. When we saw this work of art I knew I had to turn around and go back and capture the moment. Believe it or not, the beak opens and closes, and the eyes roll around. This astounds me — it is one thing to build a chicken joint in the shape of a hen back in the '60s, but to keep it functional and animated for so long is another thing entirely.

"An Unlikely Prophet brings up an important question about Superman: What makes people want to meet him so badly? [...]Superman is different because he doesn't really belong to the writers who've created his adventures over the last 68-plus years. He has evolved into a folk hero, a fable, and the public feels like it has a stake in who Superman "really" is.

From The Myth of Superman, by Neil Gaiman and Adam Rogers.

I've always been more of a Batman guy than a Superman guy. (I'm sure someone's come up with a bullshit pop-psych theory to explain such things, but the reality is that the first time my parents left me with a babysitter they brought me home an 80-Page Giant comic featuring Batman.) I'm not going to bother getting into the iconic parallels between the Superman and Batman — day/night, strength/intellect, justice/revenge — as there are many, many, many essays on-line if you are into such things. With the release this month of the new live action Superman film, the Kryptonian PR machine is ratcheting up to maximum, and I am a little reluctant to add much to that (although I am looking forward to seeing the film, however misguided that may be).

The linked essay by Gaiman and Rogers, though, struck a chord with me, and gave me pause to think about the relationship of Superman to our world today: the Man of Steel embodies the elusive ideal of America. He's an immigrant orphan sent away by his parents for the hope of a better life, who used this opportunity to make the world a better place. His unparalleled strength is used not for conquest or to remake the world in his own image, but to defend his adopted home from its enemies. And obove all, Superman is tolerant of those who are who hold differing views, choosing to allow the example of his own actions speak for him, rather than forcing them to change to fit his own philosophy.

Superman, I suspect, would not be comfortable in American today.

The Crash Test Dummies had it right in Superman's Song: "Sometimes I despair the world will never see another man like him." But we still have the mythology, and some of us still hold on to the dream.

As a follow-up to an earlier post, I am finding the Google Notebook to be an indispensable tool for research. With the Firefox plug-ins installed I can capture text and images from any page, jot down a quick note to myself, and then save the information to a private notebook accessible from anywhere with Internet access.

I don't think that the idea of publicly accessible Google notebooks is going to catch on, though. It is just a simpler version of a blogging tool, without any design involved. The primary advantage to it would be the integration of search capabilities via Google, enabling someone to find all your notes on a particular topic in one place, but I don't think that's enough to make it popular. If you have an audience, you want a stronger association with your name than a bit of text at the top of the page.

For me, it's making it much easier to gather together a bunch of notes and references for an essay in one place during the research phase. I'm looking forward to seeing how it develops.

Actually, it's very pleasant here, with mild temperatures and low humidity, compared to the swamp this is South Florida. If only this was a vacation, and not a week of brain-burning training.

The training isn't even really that difficult, it's just that long hours in a non-ergonomic chair is not good for my demeanor. Finishing up that training and then returning to the hotel room to connect to the office and cover my regular job doesn't improve it any, either.

I mean, hell, I've been to Atlanta quite a few times, and haven't really visited the city since 1975. I imagine it's changed a little in the last 30 years. I hear it's even desegregated now.

The hotel I am in, the Renaissance Waverly, is connected to a mall (or so they say). It is actually rather sad, because it is attached to a failed mall, an attempt at an upscale shopping experience that the neighborhood couldn't support. It reminds me of some vestigial organ hanging off the hotel — it looks like it has a purpose, but no-one can figure out what it is.

The hotel itself, though, isn't without quirks. A downside to being an early adopter of Internet access in the rooms is the cost to upgrade. While most of the business hotels I frequent offer free wireless access int he rooms and in the common areas, here I am limited to in-room wired access for $10 a day. Fortunately it is fast and reliable, and I have access from the training room PCs, so it isn't all that bad. Nonetheless, I am looking closely at the Treo 700p, just for the sake of future convenience.

Oh, and one other thing bothers me about the hotel. This is a high-class property, with a luxurious lobby filled with professional people. So why, then, is the fitness center located such that you have to stroll through that lobby in your gym shorts to get there? Every step my middle-aged, misshapen, and decided un-toned form takes across those expensive tile floors costs them dearly in prestige. Perhaps they should have a back entrance for the unbeautiful people.

Maximus of SubIntSoc has done a little mash-up, replacing Miami Beach with Manhattan. Some parts of it are surprisingly accurate. There's no word as yet as to how the SoBe crowd feels about moving to New York.

Whenever I fly, I am struck with the surprising dimensions of clouds.

When earthbound I tend to think of them as matte paintings, more special effect than natural phenomenon. The idea that they have such varied textures is conveniently forgotten until the next time my plane flies through this ethereal topology.

They do, however, lose some of their charm when they delay my arrival in Atlanta for several hours.

In spite of having nearly drowned when I was a child, I am fascinated with the sea. Perhaps some part of me still hopes to find the lovely creatures depicted in the marvelous underwater Sous la Mer photos cavorting in the waves. [link contains nudity].

Perhaps I might see them if I booked a stay in Jules Underwater Lodge [via fifteen minute ghetto]. I must confess that even with my interest in the undersea world, I have my doubts about this place. It would be a unique experience, no doubt, but somehow it still seems too much like driving a motor home into a bay.

The Hurricane Newspapers Archive provides scans of newspapers covering past hurricanes through American history. Seeing the American death tolls decrease while those of the Caribbean remain high provides an interesting insight into the value of structurally sound housing in surviving a hurricane. [via Infomaniac]

Well, Google doesn't think I have a strong enough opinion on the English-only debate. Among my search hits for last week were both "miami spanish speaking neighborhoods" and "where to live in Miami if you speak english".

But today I got hits for "anglo-saxon domination" and "sunny Manola." Well, it isn't like the good ol' days with the pervy requests, but it'll do. Thanks, guys.

I've been rearranging my music collection this week, which — given the amount of music I have — is leading me to rediscover some items that had fallen down the list a bit. One of these is the works of Warren Zevon, one of the best songwriters American has produced. When he died in 2003, I wrote a couple of posts about it, a tribute of sorts. They are reprinted below.

Testament (09/08/2003)

There are other people who will write much more eloquently than me about Warren Zevon, who will tell the tragic tale of his diagnosis with cancer last year, and his death yesterday at the far too young age of 56. Those more scholarly will tell you about the significance of his body of work, both as a performer, but most importantly as a songwriter. All I can add to this is my own perspective.

I've followed Warren Zevon since the early days of his career as a performer, astounded by his sardonic wit, and amazed that he was able to sell albums containing such literate—and funny!— songs. I saw him live once, at a tiny club in Fort Lauderdale, just him and a piano and a carton of cigarettes. It was one of the best concerts I've ever attended. And with each of his albums, each time I saw a film of him performing, each of his songs, my respect deepened. Here was a guy who stayed true to his art, even though it meant missing out on commercial success, and who seemed like an ordinary guy.

When he learned in August 2002 that he had inoperable cancer, and only three months to live, he didn't give up. He started writing songs like a madman, hoping for enough material to create one last album, even though he suspected he'd never see it released. He brought in his friends to help him, and he just kept going, even when he had to start taking morphine for the pain, crafting a last testament.

He lived past the three month prediction, and lived to celebrate the anniversary of finding out about the cancer. And last week The Wind hit stores (although I haven't managed to track down a copy yet). The reviews have been good, and sales have been good, too. So Sunday, Warren's ride came for him.

One of my deepest fears is that when death comes for me, I won't have a chance to say goodbye. For someone who lives by words, that's a terrifying thought. So tonight I'm sitting alone in a hotel room with a glass in front of me, tears on my face, toasting a man who I never met, but who managed to say what needed to be said, once last time.

What more can any of us hope for?

"Hold me in your thoughts, take me to your dreams" (09/18/2003)

I finally tracked down a copy of Warren Zevon's final CD, The Wind, and I'm happy to report that it is as good as I'd hoped. The songs avoid an excess of sentimentality, maintaining an openness and honesty seldom heard. His voice isn't as strong as usual, but that's to be expected from someone dying from lung cancer. Any weakness in tone is more than offset but the raw emotion coming through.

Anyone who appreciates finely crafted songs should get this disc. The styles cover a wide range, from the southern rock of "Dirty Life and Times", to the Mexican-influenced "El Amor De Mi Vida," with stops in early blues ("Prison Grove") and more modern house-rocking blues ("Rub Me Raw"). Some of the tunes kick ass, while some are fragile and delicate. But they are all great songs, melding keen wit and intelligent lyrics with solid melodies, some as good as anything he'd written before, and some destined to become classics.

The only cover on the album is Dylan's Knocking on Heaven's Door. If it had been handled badly, it could have been a self-conscious disaster, setting a new standard for cliches. Zevon arranged it to be the third track, though, keeping it from becoming too symbolic. The last track on the disc, Keep Me in Your Heart, is a beautiful song, an epilogue to his life. Even then he manages to avoid excesses of sentiment, keeping the song's simple acoustic guitar accompaniment brisk; there will be no funeral dirge here. Just a last request, that his loved ones think of him from time to time, as they get on with their lives.

Don't worry, Warren. You'll be remembered for a long time to come.

The salesman concluded with a hearty recap. "I'm glad we had the chance to meet in person; this is not a conversation I'd want to have on the phone, for obvious reasons," he roared. Everyone laughed heartily.

The above quote is from Crashing the Wiretapper's Ball, where Thomas Greene describes sneaking into a closed trade show for police, international governmental agencies, and technology companies specializing in electronic surveillance gear. It makes for some interesting and spooky reading.

For each item seen here I often have at least six or eight which never make it past the draft stage. They go into pending purgatory either because I decided it wasn't an appropriate topic for the site, I wasn't satisfied was the tone, more research was needed, or I sobered up. Sometimes they emerge weeks or months later, but most vanish into the mists.

So while this is more a challenge to myself than anything else, for the month of June I am going to attempt to make daily updates. This is in an attempt to make myself write faster, try some new things, and become a better American by emphasizing quantity over quality. For you, it'll be... well, you'll get... okay, I don't know how you'll feel about it. But I hope you will let me know.