Posts from — September 2003

Well, I’m back. I’m on the 8:13 express right now, crawling toward Manhattan. I got a seat, but the train was late. Yes, I’m complaining. Nothing like a morning commute to erase any positive vibe you may be riding on following a week away from the daily grind.

Oh, and, by the way, I have a proposal for the airlines. I suggest that all passengers should be subject to this: if you are a fat slob, so overbudget in the girth department that your volume literally spills into the space that belongs to the passenger next to you, Either pony up the cash for a first class seat, buy two coach seats (since you really take up 1.5 of those anyway), or take the damned train. I’m totally serious about this. Three hours of direct bodily contact with your funk is NOT what I paid for, and it’s not fair. It would be trivial to determine some set of measurements that would determine the cutoff point, like those little signs they have at the amusement park where the kids have to stand in front of a little cartoon character holding a ruler, which determines if the child is tall enough to go on the ride. They could have a little sign depicting a happy airline passenger, sitting in a coach seat and using up his alotted space and no more. If a passenger stands in front of this sign, and COMPLETELY OBLITERATES the happy airline passenger from view, including the armrest and half the seat next to him, it’s safe to say that he needs to upgrade. I think I may work on a few prototypes.

Wow, a whole week just flew by, and I learned a lot, met some new friends, saw some old ones. I finally met Dr. John Mardaljevec, and I can tell you that that was truly a pleasure. I visited Berkeley, CA for the first time, and that was fun, too. But alas, the Second Annual International Radiance Workshop drew to a close yesterday, and most of the attendees have already headed home. Airline pricing and schedules being what they are, it actually worked out better, price-wise, to stay an extra day on the left coast before heading home, so I checked out San Francisco today.

There’s nothing like traveling to make you realize what an idiot you are. I have seen zillions of pictures of S.F., especially of the hills and the cable cars. But until I actually arrived here, I never fully appreciated how hilly the place is, and just how significant those hills are! There aren’t just a couple of hills; the whole city seems to be blanketed over a big polygon modified by a sine wave pattern (oooh, that’s the Radiance Conference talking…).

After a walking tour of UC Berkeley’s campus had my shins barking like a pack of wild dogs, I should have known, but no, today, I decided that the line for the cable cars was too damned long (and it was, even in retrospect) and that I was gonna hoof it from Powell Street to Fisherman’s Wharf.

After a short while, I was atop a “hill” and darted off to look at Grace Cathedral. After milling around the general neighborhood, I realized I was in the Nob Hill section. From what I can gather, “nob” is an ancient word for “really fuckin’ steep”.

Anyway, I meandered around the area, made my way down to the wharf, ate a bunch of fish, paid my respects to the chocolate gods in Ghiraradelli Square for Brenda, hiked around, looked at the cable car museum, and spent some time at SFMOMA. Then, I limped over to the BART station, and rode the train to one stop short of my ultimate destination. Apparently, the computer that controls the entire mass transit rail system for the San Francisco bay area took a shit, when I was just a mile from my hotel. So, I got to walk back to Berkeley. I meandered along Telegraph, stopped off at Jupiter for just one more IPA, and now here I am. Time to hit send, and go to bed. The workshop is over, and the grim reality of that fact will hit home tomorrow morning, around 4AM when the alarm goes off. Sigh.

Well, I am in Berkeley, California right now, typing this in a comfy chair in the lobby of the Shattuck Plaza, also known as the local Howard Johnson’s. This is my first time visiting norcal, and it’s exciting to start by dipping my toe into the reactionary waters of Berkeley, rather than San Francisco. The depiction of this place as a teeming hotbed of liberal sixties culture is, well, understated. As I type this, a very high man, who was muttering to himself for the last five minutes while waiting for the hotel desk clerk to return from his break, is now shouting obscenities and railing against the Howard Johnson’s Corporation. This fit of rage was apparently triggered by the hotel desk clerk asking him if he preferred a smoking or non-smoking room. Too many rules for him, I guess. OK, he’s wandered off now, sweating and cursing, down Allston Place. I’m quite certain more exciting times lie in store for him. The very blond hotel clerk shook his head, barely perceptibly, and said a very understated “wow”.

Anyway, I’m here for the Radiance Workshop I mentioned a few days ago; it starts tomorrow, and I can’t wait. Since I’ll be in geek heaven all day, all week, starting tomorrow, I figured I’d take a stroll around the town this afternoon and see what’s up. Berkeley sort-of reminds me of Santa Fe, from a humanistic & color standpoint. You have a lot of liberal people here, and you are not far from the desert, so it’s sorta brown. It’s pretty, but brown. I always associated northern CA with greenness, but I guess I need to venture out further to see that.

The people here very loose. Birkenstocks are the norm, as is long hair (and long facial hair for the fellas), loose clothing, and tattoos. Lots of tattoos. I can certainly dig the counter culture, fuck authority motif, though many of you know my intense dislike for the Grateful Dead and all their detritus. Unfortunately, this whole town reeks like a Grateful Dead show, but I’m trying to look the other way as far as that’s concerned. The people are exceedingly nice for the most part, I just got here, I’m just observing.

Now, on my stroll along Shattuck Ave, I passed at least four bike shops (even though I haven’t been in the saddle in ages, I still love bicycles with every fiber of my being, and every time I’m in a new place and I see a bike shop, I check it out). But one place was particularly intriguing; The Missing Link Bicycle Cooperative, Inc., had a neat display of antique bikes in the window, and old articles and magazine covers from 70’s bicycle racing magazines on display. I ventured in.

The reek of vulcanized rubber and WD-40 hit me as I approached the door, and it drew me in like a familiar friend. I spent years working in shops, and that unique aroma is somehow comforting to me. It reminds me of my youth. The usual shop decor presented itself; bulletin board with ride announcements, bikes for sale, stolen bikes to look for. Pictures of local riders, having fun. Notices for upcoming races, and races long since over. Bikes and wheels hang from the ceiling, and a guy in back trues a wheel. I try like hell to blend in and just take in the shop and its wares, as I have done all over the US every time I find a new bike shop. The wheel truer discovers me anyway, and asks if I need help, “No thanks, just lookin’”, is my standard response. Leave me alone. I’m trying to soak this up. Usually, shortly after the “just looking” exchange, I size up the rest of the place, flip through the latest issue of Velo News and Procycling, check to see of they have any cool t-shirts I might want to buy (this is an addiction that never leaves you, even after you stop pedaling) and mosey on out the door.

But then, the other mechanic on duty was helping a young woman out with her new bike. At first, the conversation sounded familiar: “you might want to do something about that seat; the tilt of the seat is wrong”. Then, the VOICE sounded familiar: “Here, it’ll only take a sec…” I turn around, and there, twirling a wrench, is Scott Hicks—a guy I worked with at Bike Tech in Philadelphia in 1991, and hadn’t seen since. Holy shit.

We shot the breeze for a while, got caught up a bit on each other and some of the others from the old crew. Damn, this is a small world. He also told me about a good place down the street that brews their own beer and makes great pizzas. Turns out it’s across from my hotel; I can see it right now. And yes, the beers are great, and they have Anchor Liberty Ale on tap. I plan to go back there and sample Liberty Ale draft; I think I just may see god. As for the pizza, I am trying like hell to blend. Get this, I had a pizza with fucking BARBECUE SAUCE on it. But you know something folks? It was good, and I’ll defend that choice all the way to the grave.

So, day one of my Radiance/norcal extravaganza is winding to a close, though I have some homework to do that I brought with me. But there’s that great brewpub across the street, and Neal Stephenson is signing copies of his new book here in Berkeley on Thursday, and surely tomorrow will bring all kinds of new discoveries about Radiance that I didn’t know and will want to play with, so uh, I gotta go.

My pal Mike sent me this very disturbing story:

LONDON (Reuters) – Scientists have discovered fossils of the world’s oldest genitals—belonging to 400 million-year-old insects—in ancient rocks in Scotland.

The penis of the ancient harvestmen insects, commonly known as a daddy-long-legs, was two-thirds the length of the body and remarkably similar to the modern-day species, New Scientist magazine said Wednesday.

“The discovery of the world’s oldest genitals proves that little has changed over the last 400 million years—at least for daddy-long-legs,” the magazine said.

Jason Dunlop and a team of researchers from Humbolt University in Berlin, Germany, who will present their findings at a conference in Aberdeen, also uncovered a long egg-laying organ called an ovipositor from a female.

“As well as genitals, the fossils have the oldest known arachnid respiratory system, suggesting harvestmen’s ancestors had long since crawled out of the sea and learned to breathe,” the magazine said.

Harvestmen arachnids are sometimes mistaken for spiders but they are more closely related to ticks or mites because they do not spin webs.

The previous oldest penis, which dated back 100 million years and was found in Brazil, belonged an ostracod, an early crustacean related to crabs, shrimps and water fleas.

Now, this is disturbing on many levels. First of all, apparently there are people who hunt around for fossilized fun rods; scientists, looking for hard penises. Hmmm, let me rephrase that. Scholars in boner rocks. Forget it; just forget it. There is simply no way to state their profession without cracking a joke and a smile.

OK, second, my aforementioned pal Mike recently graduated from university in Aberdeen, Scotland, the very home of the stone weenie cavalcade mentioned in the article. I’d love to see a joint venture collaboration between the architecture and anthropology departments…

The final paragraph begins with “The previous oldest penis…” That statement is disturbing all by itself, but let’s probe (pun most definitely intended) the true essence of that statement. This means some poor bastard is in charge of keeping penile statistics, and, not only that, but thousands of journalism interns across the globe had to consult this dick maven for friggin’ background info on old peters. Think about it.

Lastly, many of you already know about my previous brushes with nature; what has until now gone untold is that small critters like spiders & crickets are a constant bane around here. And now, the next time I have to smash a daddy long legs with my shoe, I’ll still know that if he were me, he’d have a four foot long youknowwhat. That, folks, is very emasculating!

It has come to my attention that the menu I recently added to my homepage does not display on Netscape. Dunno why, have no time to fix. Just lettin’ ya know. I’ll get around to it.

Robert L. Borosage said:

”…Instead the president chose not to lead but to mislead. And in doing so, he squandered the trust of a nation that came together as one after the horrors of September 11.”

Uhm, yeah, that about sums it up quite nicely, I believe. This quote is from the newly-launched misleader.org website, which will attempt to chronicle the lies & deceit spewing from the Bush Administration. Go have a look.

About nine months ago, my old web host (who, by the way, I heartily recommend you stay away from) crashed and burned when they destroyed their server (yes, as in the singular) doing a disk upgrade. I hastily moved to a new web host, and have been quite happy. In my haste, I simply got the blog back up and said I’d get all the static content back online “soon”.

Soon, in this case, meant nine months apparently.

I have finally gotten around to reformatting the old static content from my old website and added a menu (in the upper right there, see it?) to access it. I haven’t had time to tweak the style sheets and all, so it looks a bit rough around the edges, but it should all be accessible now. Someday, I will completely redo this site and make it 100% CSS & XHTML compliant. Since “soon” means nine months in Robspeak, “Someday” is sure to be long into the future indeed.

Anyhoo, the main reason I did this was because I had set a goal of having my 9-11/WTC story back online before the second anniversary. Go read (or re-read) it now, and maybe you will understand why I’m still chasing this vision from my head, two years after the event. I can’t imagine what it must be like for the survivors of the victims, and for the people who were in the towers or near ground zero and survived. Two years later, I’m no closer to understanding what in the hell happened down there two years ago.

I haven’t paid much attention to the media lately, so I’m not sure what commercial extravaganzas cloaked in patriotism the networks have lined up for us this week, but I think I’ll take a pass like I did last year. I don’t need Robert DeNiro to narrate footage of 9/11 for me. I see it in my head nearly every day.

Nearly two years after the attacks, I am saddenned to see that nothing has changed. Donald Rumsfeld used this horrible act to sway public opinion in favor of invading a country that had nothing to do with 9/11, and everyone just strikes up the band and rallies around the flag in support of the hijacking of a nation. I guess I need to remind you that not a gram of WMD has been recovered in Iraq, STILL.

In the immediate aftermath of the attacks, this nation and her allies banded together in an unbelievable outpouring of emotion and courtesy. On the streets of NYC, you could definitely sense that people were in full-on “do unto others…” mode. But our nation’s behavior in the months after the attacks is disgraceful, and it makes me sad.

My disgust with the current leadership aside, I want to remind everyone that this Thursday is a very sad reminder of what happened two years ago. Do take a few moments to reflect.

Two weeks from today, I’m going to Berkeley, CA to attend the Second Annual Radiance Workshop”, where people from around the planet will convene for tutorials on using Radiance, and to share their experiences with the software. If you are into simulating light, then you are into Radiance (or you should be). So, gathering with some of the best Radiance minds in the world for a week will be educational, and tons of fun. I’m looking forward to it.

Last year, the workshop was, for me, more of a kick in the ass to learn Radiance once and for all after struggling & dabbling with it in fits and starts for the last several years. And indeed, over the last year I have learned so much about Radiance that I now use it in my job, and it has become indispensable. But many gaps remain in my understanding of this complicated pile of code. So, it’s iff to Berkeley I go.

I’m set to give a brief talk at the end of the week about my experience in getting up to speed on Radiance over the last year or so, which should be amusing if you are a Radiance Geek.

This is my first time to the bay area, so I plan to spend one full day in San Francisco before heading home. Besides visiting the S.F. MOMA, I’m open to suggestions on what else to see/do.

Ever since I started this blog thing, it’s been too easy to publish my own work. No editors to please, no particular audience or format. But when I DO get published, it feels really good. It’s nice to know other people are interested enough in your stuff to expose it to a wider audience. Today is the first time since I started this blog that I have had something published elsewhere, and I’m a little giddy about it.

Have a look here.