Pages from a diary belonging to Ilan Ramon, one of the astronauts that died in the space shuttle Columbia explosion, are about to go on display in Jerusalem. It seems quite improbable that pieces of paper falling to earth from so far away for earth could survive and be deciphered. Reading about that feels like reading a dream or a movie.
The story of Ilan Ramon's diary reminded of space tourist Anousheh Ansari's blog. The first time I read Anousheh's blog I think got all choked up and teary.
Last night Biana and I headed New Jersey to volunteer some of our sweat and time on the BioBus. We polished metal and cleaned and dusted.
Before it was a mobile classroom, the bus was part of San Francisco's mass transit fleet. The bus runs on vegetable oil and uses a wood burning stove to keep its inhabitants warm. It has fancy microscopes, a fridge to store amoebas and stuff, solar panels, GPS tracking, and a wind-turbine.
On Friday, the bus beings a semester of touring around. It will give kids in schools all over the country an opportunity to interact with their environments in a new way -- through the lens of a microscope.
Oh hey Google. I'm just calling to say hey and to wish you a happy birthday. Got any big plans? Oh? You're going to make your oldest index available to the world at large.
Oh hehe. Yeah I guess that's cool. So you mean, like, when people search for stuff, you'll return the return the search results from 2001?
No. no. I think thats a great idea. I've got nothing in your search index to be embarrassed about. What? Don't be silly.
I'm proud my old weird internet art and experimental poetry... and that picture me (with my crazy hair) sitting inside of a dryer at the laundromat, love it. Hehe. Anyways, look, I gotta run. Ok man. Happy birthday again.
The first novel (ok, novella) I ever read from start to finish in one sitting was Ernest Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea. The notion of being out on the open sea and slowly... intently... chasing a fish is something that super duper resonates with me.
At various point in my life, I talked up working on a fishing boat in Alaska, living on a houseboat in international waters, and living in a tiny cabin on a giant lake with some good fishin'.
When I dream of the fisherman's life, I imagine something halfway between what Hemingway describes in his book and what Hifana portray in their music video for Wamono.
My dog Alex is a big proponent of wireless technology. At the same time, he's an animal. He's too stupid to engineer anything as useful as infrared, bluetooth, or wifi. Earlier this week he tried to invent a wireless cell phone charger and a wireless Xbox controller. Bad Alex! No!
This morning I uncovered a prototype for his latest idea, the wireless power chord. If he can get this thing to work, it'll revolutionize the energy industry.
I'm kind of pissed that I can't turn on my lights, play Xbox, or charge my cell phone, but I guess I should support the fuckface's passion for engineering and inventing shit.
I don't like the fact that when you die your bowels empty. I know its silly not to like a fact. Facts are unchangeable. But still, I don't like that fact one bit. It's too messy. It makes me feel uncomfortable. It makes me feel embarrassed for dead people.
I wonder if I'd be more inclined to go if I didn't have the internet. Facebook allows me to keep extra close tabs on the folks I used to sit in classrooms with. I can see who's kind of a big deal, who's married, who's living it up, and who's moved to the other end of the universe.
Why catch up with my old classmates in person, when I can Superpoke them and turn them into vampires with a click of a button... from the comfort of my desk no less!? Sigh... now I'm making myself feel bad.
Last night I headed over with Biana. I thought the place might be a country western themed bar, but I was mistaken. The Black Boot Saloon is a genuine bonafide biker bar. It was just us, and two biker bartenders, and two guys playing pool.
There are two orphan bike wheels that live in my apartment. Today I transformed one into a hanging pot rack. It wasn't my idea, and I'm not the first person to have doneso -- but still, I'm feeling pretty crafty and proud of myself.