Too Much Miami

What happens when you delete or block a web page? It gets deleted.  Or blocked. What happens when you censor or ban a book? It becomes contraband, but the copies are still out there. Stark differences. The internet is immediate.  It is all inclusive.  It is interactive.  Every individual who uses it is a potential publisher.  It is far reaching, and susceptible to fraud and misinformation.  It is by no means a permanent medium, at least not what I consider permanent. A book is not immediate.  It is not all inclusive.  It is not interactive.  Anyone can be a writer of some sort, but distribution of a book is a very hard thing to get.  It is susceptible to fraud and misinformation, though the industry has safeguards against this.  It is what I consider a permanent medium. Let me be clear that when I speak about books from here on out, I am really speaking about anything that you can hold in your hand, be it a book, magazine, a note between friends, the Dead Sea Scrolls, or the Rosetta Stone. How many unnecessary things do we read everyday because of the all inclusive aspect of the internet?  In the modern world we are overrun by information, and by an influx of opinions that don’t really matter.  Not that your Facebook friends don’t matter, but let’s be honest- more often than not your feed makes for a crappy, uninformative read.  This overload of lukewarm content breeds minds that skim material, knowing that most of it is garbage, and in the long term leads to the inability to recall what is really important from what we read.  It all becomes noise. On the flip-side, how many necessary things did the world miss out on before technology like the internet existed?  Has the exclusivity of the publishing industry silenced voices that the whole world should have heard?  Logic would tell us that this is clearly so.  But surely the process stopped a lot of nonsense from being made public.  The sheer amount of written classical works that have crossed generations is testament to the editing process, and of the positive nature of curating information.  Reading books forms minds that are able to concentrate, and sharpens the ability to think in depth about specific ideas. The internet has been described as a democracy, but in many ways this is its biggest flaw.  Things become important because the majority deems them important.  It favors things and people that are ‘in’, and forgets about the little guys.  Nobody can become a celebrated blogger after a mere two or three posts, but these posts might just be the best reading this world has never heard of.  This popularity vs. quality issue brings forth an interesting concept: If Jesus had Twitter he might only have twelve followers. The point is that if something doesn’t go viral, then you are likely to miss it.  Klout has replaced quality, and only through good marketing can something be deemed as a ‘must read.’ Books, in the classic sense, are not judged by this interactive audience with a possible agenda, and as such they are taken on their merits alone.  They can be found in a cave, millenia after they were written, and still hold truth and insight that is worthy for the world to read.  They can be banned and kept as contraband, transcribed by hand, and shared.  Just look at how Steinbeck’s little known novel The Moon is Down changed the course of World War II, or how Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin began turning the tide in the American Civil War. And a website can be banned.  Or hacked, and deleted.  Or, the government can simply restrict access altogether. I fear that the short-sightedness of internet publishing will make everything that is going on now look like static in the future.  We will have no ‘essential reads’ of this era, because all we have is billions of blog posts, almost all of which is fluff.  If we forget about books we are doing future generations a disservice.  This is the difference between a hard drive crashing and a library burning. Credit must be given to the internet for helping more people become writers and thinkers. But even more credit must be given to books for preserving curated knowledge and information across the times. Only one of these mediums has a track record long enough to trust. Now only if I could get that book deal…

What happens when you delete or block a web page?
 
It gets deleted.  Or blocked.
 
What happens when you censor or ban a book?
 
It becomes contraband, but the copies are still out there.
 
Stark differences.
 
The internet is immediate.  It is all inclusive.  It is interactive.  Every individual who uses it is a potential publisher.  It is far reaching, and susceptible to fraud and misinformation.  It is by no means a permanent medium, at least not what I consider permanent.
 
A book is not immediate.  It is not all inclusive.  It is not interactive.  Anyone can be a writer of some sort, but distribution of a book is a very hard thing to get.  It is susceptible to fraud and misinformation, though the industry has safeguards against this.  It is what I consider a permanent medium.
 
Let me be clear that when I speak about books from here on out, I am really speaking about anything that you can hold in your hand, be it a book, magazine, a note between friends, the Dead Sea Scrolls, or the Rosetta Stone.
 
How many unnecessary things do we read everyday because of the all inclusive aspect of the internet?  In the modern world we are overrun by information, and by an influx of opinions that don’t really matter.  Not that your Facebook friends don’t matter, but let’s be honest- more often than not your feed makes for a crappy, uninformative read.  This overload of lukewarm content breeds minds that skim material, knowing that most of it is garbage, and in the long term leads to the inability to recall what is really important from what we read.  It all becomes noise.
 
On the flip-side, how many necessary things did the world miss out on before technology like the internet existed?  Has the exclusivity of the publishing industry silenced voices that the whole world should have heard?  Logic would tell us that this is clearly so.  But surely the process stopped a lot of nonsense from being made public.  The sheer amount of written classical works that have crossed generations is testament to the editing process, and of the positive nature of curating information.  Reading books forms minds that are able to concentrate, and sharpens the ability to think in depth about specific ideas.
 
The internet has been described as a democracy, but in many ways this is its biggest flaw.  Things become important because the majority deems them important.  It favors things and people that are ‘in’, and forgets about the little guys.  Nobody can become a celebrated blogger after a mere two or three posts, but these posts might just be the best reading this world has never heard of.  This popularity vs. quality issue brings forth an interesting concept:
 
If Jesus had Twitter he might only have twelve followers.
 
The point is that if something doesn’t go viral, then you are likely to miss it.  Klout has replaced quality, and only through good marketing can something be deemed as a ‘must read.’
 
Books, in the classic sense, are not judged by this interactive audience with a possible agenda, and as such they are taken on their merits alone.  They can be found in a cave, millenia after they were written, and still hold truth and insight that is worthy for the world to read.  They can be banned and kept as contraband, transcribed by hand, and shared.  Just look at how Steinbeck’s little known novel The Moon is Down changed the course of World War II, or how Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin began turning the tide in the American Civil War.
 
And a website can be banned.  Or hacked, and deleted.  Or, the government can simply restrict access altogether.
 
I fear that the short-sightedness of internet publishing will make everything that is going on now look like static in the future.  We will have no ‘essential reads’ of this era, because all we have is billions of blog posts, almost all of which is fluff.  If we forget about books we are doing future generations a disservice.  This is the difference between a hard drive crashing and a library burning.
 
Credit must be given to the internet for helping more people become writers and thinkers.
 
But even more credit must be given to books for preserving curated knowledge and information across the times.
 
Only one of these mediums has a track record long enough to trust.
 
Now only if I could get that book deal…

”Are you guys ready for a dessert?” Never again will I hear that phrase the same.  After spending two weeks in Spain some things jumped out at me that I have never considered.  While a lot has been made about the differences between American and European culture, I feel like I just figured a chunk of it out. I was staying in Barcelona with five of my closest friends for the trip, and one of the first observations that we had as a group was that while the food was delicious, the service was horrible.  The city is absolutely beautiful and magnetic, but the work ethic was totally lacking.  For any little thing that you wanted you would have to literally get up and find the waiter, or wait up to 45 minutes for him to come back.  Needless to say, there were some American cliches being thrown around the table.  Things like ”what’s wrong with this guy?,” ”no wonder they don’t pay tip in this country” and ”holy fuck, this guy sucks.” Not my proudest moment, but we honestly felt like we were being ignored, even though we ordered in Spanish, conversed with the waiter, and did all the little things that wins a waiter over in the states. But our efforts were in vain.  Ordering an espresso on a streetside cafe literally takes more than a half hour.  The first week of our stay consisted of a bunch of ”What’s going on here?  I have things to do.  I can’t spend all day waiting on a check.”   And then I started to look around and I began to understand. Americans have a unique world view in the sense that we look at time as our enemy.  He haunts us constantly, and we dread him even though deep down we wish we had more of him.  When we sit in a restaurant for lunch we are used to having to run back to the office, so we have to make it quick.  So when your waiter walks up and asks you ”are you ready for dessert?” it doesn’t strike us as rude.  It serves as a reminder that we have things to do, and it is a happy addition to any meal. In Spain if the waiter tried to set the pace of your meal he would be an asshole. The cuisine and the manner in which a culture eats is a mirror image of the culture as a whole.  What does that say about us if we expect our waiters to set the pace of our meals?  What are the implications?  Think about it.  How many times have you felt a waiter pushing you to order quick, and to hurry up and pay when you are eating out?  It is the most bizarre thing.  We go out to eat, get rushed out the door, and are expected to tip the server based on how quickly we were served, and how fast he flipped the table. Americans have been so preconditioned to think that we have something to do, somewhere to go, to the point that we have actually outsourced the enjoyment of the most basic of pleasures. In retrospect we were the assholes.  Whenever you enter into a situation with expectations you are bound to be disappointed.  The servers meant no harm, they were just giving us room to breathe and enjoy the food as well as the ambience.  We were just so used to restaurants telling us how long a meal should last that when it came time to decide for ourselves, we panicked. Thinking back on it, I should have given these guys a fat tip just for leaving us alone. Because in the states we forfeit money for time, instead of enjoying both for what they are. Silly Americans.

”Are you guys ready for a dessert?”

Never again will I hear that phrase the same.  After spending two weeks in Spain some things jumped out at me that I have never considered.  While a lot has been made about the differences between American and European culture, I feel like I just figured a chunk of it out.

I was staying in Barcelona with five of my closest friends for the trip, and one of the first observations that we had as a group was that while the food was delicious, the service was horrible.  The city is absolutely beautiful and magnetic, but the work ethic was totally lacking.  For any little thing that you wanted you would have to literally get up and find the waiter, or wait up to 45 minutes for him to come back.  Needless to say, there were some American cliches being thrown around the table.  Things like ”what’s wrong with this guy?,” ”no wonder they don’t pay tip in this country” and ”holy fuck, this guy sucks.”

Not my proudest moment, but we honestly felt like we were being ignored, even though we ordered in Spanish, conversed with the waiter, and did all the little things that wins a waiter over in the states.

But our efforts were in vain.  Ordering an espresso on a streetside cafe literally takes more than a half hour.  The first week of our stay consisted of a bunch of ”What’s going on here?  I have things to do.  I can’t spend all day waiting on a check.”  

And then I started to look around and I began to understand.

Americans have a unique world view in the sense that we look at time as our enemy.  He haunts us constantly, and we dread him even though deep down we wish we had more of him.  When we sit in a restaurant for lunch we are used to having to run back to the office, so we have to make it quick.  So when your waiter walks up and asks you ”are you ready for dessert?” it doesn’t strike us as rude.  It serves as a reminder that we have things to do, and it is a happy addition to any meal.

In Spain if the waiter tried to set the pace of your meal he would be an asshole.

The cuisine and the manner in which a culture eats is a mirror image of the culture as a whole.  What does that say about us if we expect our waiters to set the pace of our meals?  What are the implications?  Think about it.  How many times have you felt a waiter pushing you to order quick, and to hurry up and pay when you are eating out?  It is the most bizarre thing.  We go out to eat, get rushed out the door, and are expected to tip the server based on how quickly we were served, and how fast he flipped the table.

Americans have been so preconditioned to think that we have something to do, somewhere to go, to the point that we have actually outsourced the enjoyment of the most basic of pleasures.

In retrospect we were the assholes.  Whenever you enter into a situation with expectations you are bound to be disappointed.  The servers meant no harm, they were just giving us room to breathe and enjoy the food as well as the ambience.  We were just so used to restaurants telling us how long a meal should last that when it came time to decide for ourselves, we panicked.

Thinking back on it, I should have given these guys a fat tip just for leaving us alone.

Because in the states we forfeit money for time, instead of enjoying both for what they are.

Silly Americans.

One of the pleasures of a 7 hour layover is the chance to explore a city that might not necessarily be a destination, but is still significant in some right.  Today, on the way to Barcelona I was detoured to Philadelphia for the day.  While I have visited the city multiple times in the past, I was finally able to look at it with ‘mature’ eyes. First thing you notice about the city is the trash.  On the train ride to Gallery from the airport, the cityscape can easily be mistaken for a third-world country.  No disrespect to the Brotherly Lovers, but this is true.  It seems that large tracts of the outskirts of town have been utterly abandoned.  The only thing missing is the paradoxical humble farmers burning tires and the fresh country air.  This brother might be an orphan, after all. When you emerge from the underground maze that is the Gallery, however, you start to take something else in.  The people.  The citizens here glow with pride and a willingness to help.  Walking down the street you will encounter blacks, whites, Asians, Latinos, etc…, but it somehow seems cohesive.  As far as I could tell there is little ill-will between these populations, but rather constant constructive contact.  Within the inner city I couldn’t identify a single ‘hood’ where it might feel awkward to walk down the street because of your skin color or the way you dress.  This city belongs to the people. Not to outdated ideals and disguised isolationism. We did a little bit of the site-seeing.  Independence Hall.  The Liberty Bell was a fail because of the line.  Wandering around the cobblestone streets you can catch a glimpse of what the Philadelphia of the 1700s looked like.  But more importantly you get a sense of what it felt like intellectually.  As a high-school history nerd the lessons came pouring back to me with rapid-speed.   If the USA ever had an Athens, this would be it.  Benjamin Franklin walked these streets and helped conceive the pillars of our society that have been emulated the world over.  But in the back of my head I know there are heaps of trash just outside the city.  Knowing how we have come so far, why is it so hard to put your finger on the progress?  What are the metrics? If it is prosperity for all then we have surely failed.  But if can be judged by a sense of common respect and dignity, then we have come a long way.  Philadelphia has an extensive African-American history, but the most significant part of it is that the community is well versed in its details.  Plaques line the streets with tidbits of history; a history that is inclusive of both blacks and whites.  There are prominent public displays honoring people of every conceivable background.  If Philadelphia discounted any one of these groups its history would be fractured.  The city thrives (culturally) on the backs of all its residents, and it is better for it.  There is no finger-pointing here, only brothers among brothers. Now only if they would do their chores.

One of the pleasures of a 7 hour layover is the chance to explore a city that might not necessarily be a destination, but is still significant in some right.  Today, on the way to Barcelona I was detoured to Philadelphia for the day.  While I have visited the city multiple times in the past, I was finally able to look at it with ‘mature’ eyes.

First thing you notice about the city is the trash.  On the train ride to Gallery from the airport, the cityscape can easily be mistaken for a third-world country.  No disrespect to the Brotherly Lovers, but this is true.  It seems that large tracts of the outskirts of town have been utterly abandoned.  The only thing missing is the paradoxical humble farmers burning tires and the fresh country air.  This brother might be an orphan, after all.

When you emerge from the underground maze that is the Gallery, however, you start to take something else in.  The people.  The citizens here glow with pride and a willingness to help.  Walking down the street you will encounter blacks, whites, Asians, Latinos, etc…, but it somehow seems cohesive.  As far as I could tell there is little ill-will between these populations, but rather constant constructive contact.  Within the inner city I couldn’t identify a single ‘hood’ where it might feel awkward to walk down the street because of your skin color or the way you dress.  This city belongs to the people. Not to outdated ideals and disguised isolationism.

We did a little bit of the site-seeing.  Independence Hall.  The Liberty Bell was a fail because of the line.  Wandering around the cobblestone streets you can catch a glimpse of what the Philadelphia of the 1700s looked like.  But more importantly you get a sense of what it felt like intellectually.  As a high-school history nerd the lessons came pouring back to me with rapid-speed.   If the USA ever had an Athens, this would be it.  Benjamin Franklin walked these streets and helped conceive the pillars of our society that have been emulated the world over.  But in the back of my head I know there are heaps of trash just outside the city.  Knowing how we have come so far, why is it so hard to put your finger on the progress?  What are the metrics?

If it is prosperity for all then we have surely failed.  But if can be judged by a sense of common respect and dignity, then we have come a long way.  Philadelphia has an extensive African-American history, but the most significant part of it is that the community is well versed in its details.  Plaques line the streets with tidbits of history; a history that is inclusive of both blacks and whites.  There are prominent public displays honoring people of every conceivable background.  If Philadelphia discounted any one of these groups its history would be fractured.  The city thrives (culturally) on the backs of all its residents, and it is better for it.  There is no finger-pointing here, only brothers among brothers.

Now only if they would do their chores.

Bad Day, Good Night

I want to go outside and play.

Remember those days?

Who cares if you woke up feeling grumpy.  Who cares if your shoes and socks don’t match.  Who cares that you hate your second-grade teacher.  At the end of the day all you want to do is play.

But then life passes, and you find yourself at the end of a shitty day, and your passion for play has subsided.  Instead of wanting to go out and play you would rather sit inside and wallow in your own sorrows.  Sounds like a bunch of bullshit.

I think that we have been trained to self-pity.  Instead of acting (or reacting) to life we seem content with complaining about it and victimizing ourselves.

But having a bad day or a good day ultimately comes down to yourself.  If you have a crappy day from 9 to 5, why carry that crappiness with you till bedtime?

We have a tendency to remember the beginning of something and the end of something.

If you have a shitty day, please make an effort to have a good night.  Enough self-pity.  You aren’t that important.

Nobody is.

Practice for the New Year

So I decided I would start blogging again.  For the new year.

Consider this the premature-getting-my-fingers-used-to-it kind of post.  Hey, we still have a few days to go, so lay off on the criticism, you know?  I need to get back in the swing of things.  

Like stretching before you run.

Like taking a big breath before you pee.

Like winking before you do something clever.

Like doing the Babe Ruth point before you smack one out the center field fence.

Like putting the warm beer in the freezer.

Like chewing gum when you anticipate a kiss.

Like bringing the umbrella on a morning that seems a little darker than normal.

Like calling your friends before you start the party.

Speaking of parties I kind of want it to be New Years already.  All this practice is getting pretty monotonous.  I think my fingers still have it.  If it wasn’t for the couch that I’m sitting on they would be typing even faster.  I always type better on a table, but I think better on the couch.

Maybe what I needed for Christmas was an assistant to transcribe my ramblings.  Otherwise I only catch half the nonsense that I emit, and it’s kind of a disservice to humanity.

That’s pretty narcissistic.  Whatever, though, I’m still practicing.  Nevermind the fact that it seems like I’m already an expert.  I make mistakes, and practice is the time to make them.  I just made some typos in that last sentence, but you wouldn’t know it.

 Because I stand corrected.  By myself.  I can’t wait for next year.

Stoners and scientists alike may be stoked to learn that a startup biotech company has completed the DNA sequence of Cannabis sativa, or marijuana. But here’s something that could ruin a high: The company hopes the data will help scientists breed pot plants without much THC, the mind-altering chemical in the plant. The goal is instead to maximize other compounds that may have therapeutic benefits.