notes
- a couple of days ago, while I was working the front desk at the freenet, a guy came in who had never used a computer. I’d say mid-40s, quebecois ex-pat accent, blackened hands of a machinist or a mill worker. nice guy, freindly. had to jump through some hoops for the government “they gave me this number, say I have to go to a computer, put it in, get another number, come back to them. they have a computer right there but they say I have to use another one somewhere”. he said he’d never used computers so I helped him out. turned out he was serious: he had never used a computer. i had a brief moment of vertigo tyring to make a fast assessment of what was worth explaning to him and what was best left a mystery for the sake of time. I settled on the mouse. that was itself a bit of a challenge. but he got it working, pecked the website url into the address box, and with some trial and error was able to zero in the arrow onto the “next” button on the screen until he got his confirmation number to take back to the government office. nice guy. I wonder if he’ll ever use a computer again.
- Bruce Sterling, one of the better technology/culture reporters/authors out there, has started a daily weblog for Wired. also, whilst recovering from hallo’ween in Victoria, I bumped into a woman I had met 10 years previous at a youth activist conference in ontario. How are these related? For one thing, this woman and I are both now doing some HTML activities for non-profits (the connection being that Bruce Sterling often writes about the interface between techno and non-techno elements of society, you see). The other thing is that one of the subjects Mr. Sterling chose to mention in one of his opening blog postings is the cross-market appeal of Turkish musician Ebru Gundes. The second and larger connection here is that I learned from the women in victoria that our mutual friend from way back at that activist conference is now in a Turkish folk group called Elyu. I don’t know what it all means.
- some more detail: when I met this women in victoria (let’s use her name – Jasmine) Jasmine was interviewing people in a market for a radio program herself and a freind were putting together on salmon farming. They asked us some questions before I recognized her. I am told it went on air yesterday on radio free victoria. I don’t suppose they have an online archive of old programs (only the finest do) but if they do and you listened to it it would make me famous.
- which reminds me. certain radio theater groups seem to be working on a somewhat longer production schedule than the CFUV salmon farming team. My voice is still being edited for not one but two shows which were taped over the course of going-on-two-years-now. Someday they will be broadcast, on a station which actually does have an online archive, and then I will spam everyone with the fact that they can hear my walk-on parts online and then I truley will be sort of famous.
- and finally, if you have ever found yourself trying to listen to radio theatre online, or just the CBC live broadcast, and have been stymied by the fact that they stream in bloated, spamware packed Real Audio format, you now have options. After years of my silent prayers, my silent prayers have been answered: some devious hoodlums (ok, big geeks) have reverse engineered or just stolen the real audio format and released a hacked player for it that doesn’t require you to sell your electrical soul to Real Networks just to get hear the weather report from home. For the sake of fairness, there is an alternative player for Quick Time in there too. Everything’s coming up roses.
- and finally finally, it’s a lovely day in beautiful squamish, much warmer than yesterday. I knew it was going to be a scorcher as soon as my bike actually started this morning. the california-pampered crotchety rocket has been having some problems with the cold night it seems. I’ve had no such issues, I like it a little cold, as long as it’s sunny sometimes. Which means I still don’t wan’t to do another Ontario winter. my bike not starting anymore means I’ve effectively anchored myself until spring comes or I finally commit the old beater to the scrap heap. but I like the old bike, I don’t want to. my bike and my bruised heart seem to be the only things I can write poetry about anymore and what – I and the Pirate King ask –
is life, without a touch of poetry in it?