stunningpicture: This is the first picture I was given of my…



stunningpicture:

This is the first picture I was given of my unborn son

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looks a little like a distressed daguerreotype



looks a little like a distressed daguerreotype

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Discards

How not to make a graphic novel.
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Discards

How not to make a graphic novel.
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“Horror’s my default setting”

Carolyn Kellogg interviews Stephen Graham Jones for the LA Times.
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IIB

Funny gene names. (Via BoingBoing.)
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April 14, 2014



April 14, 2014

I haven’t mentioned this to anyone, but it seems I’m a sleepwalker.   For the past two years, and this happens maybe twice a year, so we’re talking about at least four times, I found myself getting out of bed sometime in the dead of night, and walking down my hill to Astro diner on Fletcher where it meets Glendale boulevard.   I have no memory of this, but I did talk to people who had witnessed me in this state.



It seems I do the same thing all the time.  I either go into the counter and sit, with a daze look over my eyes, or even worst, I tend to sit down at a booth when it is either full of people, or just two people in the area.  I have been made aware that I always go to the same seat.  One time at the counter, I was trying to sit on a seat that is already occupied by a customer.  It seemed that I was trying to sit on his lap.  Or if it is in a booth, I basically sat down and pushed the other person aside.  Either way one looks at this, I tend to go into a booth that is full of police officers from the K9 unit. Not once have they woke me up, and they just usually contact the management there.  The odd thing is I never woke up.   The waitress who works at Astro, knows me slightly and she also knows where I live.   The only saving grace is that my wife notices when I’m gone, and comes after me to take me home.  She then directs me back to bed, and then I sleep normally.  By morning, when I woke up, I have no memory of the previous night walk.



Freud once commented that sleepwalking is fulfilling sexual wishes or at the very least, a desire to go to sleep in the same area as the individual slept in childhood.  As far as I know, I never slept at Astro’s diner as a child, and my first visit there was as a teenager.  But alas, that’s not true!  My mom told me yesterday that we as a family used to go to Astro’s a lot, and mostly in the late evening.   As a child, I would always fall asleep there after eating an apple pie and then laid my head on my mom’s lap.  My mom indicated to me that it was a real pain to wake me up from my nap at Astro’s, that they finally decided that maybe it isn’t a great idea to take me there in the late evening.  Nevertheless, I have no memory of any of this.  What my memory tells me is that I went there as a teenager, and I had for sure had a strong crush on one of the waitresses there.  She was much older than me, and there wasn’t a chance in hell, that I could get anywhere near her, except to order another cup of coffee.   But going there as a teen for the purpose of seeing her, did cause me a sense of dread, anxiety, and excitement all in one package.


Of course she doesn’t work there anymore, and I (in my waking hours) go there maybe once a month for a Sunday breakfast, but still, that sense of disappointment has stayed with me for many years.  In fact, it is so disturbing to me that I try not to think about it.
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Collectible plush toys sold separately. myjetpack: My book of…



Collectible plush toys sold separately.

myjetpack:

My book of cartoons ‘You’re All Just Jealous of my Jetpack’ is available now:
US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/1770461043
UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1770461043
Other stockists and info at www.tomgauld.com

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grapnel: Christina Raines in The Sentinel – 1977.



grapnel:

Christina Raines in The Sentinel - 1977.

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marswiggles: Right Mastcam, Sol 540 “Stereoscopic wiggle GIFs…



marswiggles:

Right Mastcam, Sol 540

"Stereoscopic wiggle GIFs of Mars from Curiosity Rover, animated from MSL raw imagery by brownpau"

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File X (24)

Here’s another vintage paperback whose title includes a free-standing “X.”

Click here to view my entire collection; and click here to peruse the Collector’s Guide.

planet x

Planet X (1951), by Gill Hunt.

According to L.W. Currey: “The Galactic Spacial Police Patrol pursues a space pirate to a distant planet where unpleasant, hostile alien life forms are encountered. Space opera in the worst boys’ fiction tradition.”

*

MORE LIT LISTS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Index to All Adventure Lists | Best 19th Century Adventure (1805–1903) | Best Nineteen-Oughts Adventure (1904–13) | Best Nineteen-Teens Adventure (1914–23) | Best Twenties Adventure (1924–33) | Best Thirties Adventure (1934–43) | Best Forties Adventure (1944–53) | Best Fifties Adventure (1954–63) | Best Sixties Adventure (1964–73) | Best Seventies Adventure (1974–83) | 101 Science Fiction | 70 Crime | 65 Fantasy | 60 Espionage | 40 Atavistic & Historical | 25 Frontier & Western | 20 Avenger & Artful Dodger | 20 Apophenic & Treasure Hunt | 20 War & Ruritanian | 18 Picaresque | 11 Robinsonade & Survival. ALSO: Best YA Fiction of 1963 | Best Older Kids’ Lit 1964 | 10 Best 1964 Adventures | Best Scottish Fabulists | Radium-Age Telepath Lit | Radium Age Superman Lit | Radium Age Robot Lit | Radium Age Apocalypse Lit | Radium Age Eco-Catastrophe Lit | Radium Age Cover Art (1) | SF’s Best Year Ever: 1912 | Cold War “X” Fic | Best YA Sci-Fi | Hooker Lit | No-Fault Eco-Catastrophe Lit | Scrabble Lit |

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The Lost Prince (15)

lost-prince

Frances Hodgson Burnett is best known for her sentimental children’s novels Little Lord Fauntleroy (1885-6), A Little Princess (1905), and The Secret Garden (1911). But HiLoBooks prefers a later Burnett novel: The Lost Prince, a 1915 Ruritanian-style thriller in which two adolescent boys, one of whom is a disabled street urchin called “The Rat,” play a proto-Alternate Reality Game about a revolution in far-off Samavia… which turns into the real thing.

HiLobrow is pleased to serialize The Lost Prince, our first departure from Radium Age science fiction — into adventure fiction. A new installment will appear each week for thirty-one weeks.

ALL INSTALLMENTS SO FAR

***

Chapter 15: A Sound in a Dream

Marco slept peacefully for several hours. There was nothing to awaken him during that time. But at the end of it, his sleep was penetrated by a definite sound. He had dreamed of hearing a voice at a distance, and, as he tried in his dream to hear what it said, a brief metallic ringing sound awakened him outright. It was over by the time he was fully conscious, and at once he realized that the voice of his dream had been a real one, and was speaking still. It was the Lovely Person’s voice, and she was speaking rapidly, as if she were in the greatest haste. She was speaking through the door.

“You will have to search for it,” was all he heard. “I have not a moment!” And, as he listened to her hurriedly departing feet, there came to him with their hastening echoes the words, “You are too good for the cellar. I like you!”

He sprang to the door and tried it, but it was still locked. The feet ran up the cellar steps and through the upper hall, and the front door closed with a bang. The two people had gone away, as they had threatened. The voice had been excited as well as hurried. Something had happened to frighten them, and they had left the house in great haste.

Marco turned and stood with his back against the door. The cat had awakened and she was gazing at him with her green eyes. She began to purr encouragingly. She really helped Marco to think. He was thinking with all his might and trying to remember.

“What did she come for? She came for something,” he said to himself. “What did she say? I only heard part of it, because I was asleep. The voice in the dream was part of it. The part I heard was, ‘You will have to search for it. I have not a moment.’ And as she ran down the passage, she called back, ‘You are too good for the cellar. I like you.’” He said the words over and over again and tried to recall exactly how they had sounded, and also to recall the voice which had seemed to be part of a dream but had been a real thing. Then he began to try his favorite experiment. As he often tried the experiment of commanding his mind to go to sleep, so he frequently experimented on commanding it to work for him — to help him to remember, to understand, and to argue about things clearly.

“Reason this out for me,” he said to it now, quite naturally and calmly. “Show me what it means.”

What did she come for? It was certain that she was in too great a hurry to be able, without a reason, to spare the time to come. What was the reason? She had said she liked him. Then she came because she liked him. If she liked him, she came to do something which was not unfriendly. The only good thing she could do for him was something which would help him to get out of the cellar. She had said twice that he was too good for the cellar. If he had been awake, he would have heard all she said and have understood what she wanted him to do or meant to do for him. He must not stop even to think of that. The first words he had heard — what had they been? They had been less clear to him than her last because he had heard them only as he was awakening. But he thought he was sure that they had been, “You will have to search for it.” Search for it. For what? He thought and thought. What must he search for?

He sat down on the floor of the cellar and held his head in his hands, pressing his eyes so hard that curious lights floated before them.

“Tell me! Tell me!” he said to that part of his being which the Buddhist anchorite had said held all knowledge and could tell a man everything if he called upon it in the right spirit.

And in a few minutes, he recalled something which seemed so much a part of his sleep that he had not been sure that he had not dreamed it. The ringing sound! He sprang up on his feet with a little gasping shout. The ringing sound! It had been the ring of metal, striking as it fell. Anything made of metal might have sounded like that. She had thrown something made of metal into the cellar. She had thrown it through the slit in the bricks near the door. She liked him, and said he was too good for his prison. She had thrown to him the only thing which could set him free. She had thrown him the key of the cellar!

For a few minutes the feelings which surged through him were so full of strong excitement that they set his brain in a whirl. He knew what his father would say — that would not do. If he was to think, he must hold himself still and not let even joy overcome him. The key was in the black little cellar, and he must find it in the dark. Even the woman who liked him enough to give him a chance of freedom knew that she must not open the door and let him out. There must be a delay. He would have to find the key himself, and it would be sure to take time. The chances were that they would be at a safe enough distance before he could get out.

“I will kneel down and crawl on my hands and knees,” he said.

“I will crawl back and forth and go over every inch of the floor with my hands until I find it. If I go over every inch, I shall find it.”

So he kneeled down and began to crawl, and the cat watched him and purred.

“We shall get out, Puss-cat,” he said to her. “I told you we should.”

He crawled from the door to the wall at the side of the shelves, and then he crawled back again. The key might be quite a small one, and it was necessary that he should pass his hands over every inch, as he had said. The difficulty was to be sure, in the darkness, that he did not miss an inch. Sometimes he was not sure enough, and then he went over the ground again. He crawled backward and forward, and he crawled forward and backward. He crawled crosswise and lengthwise, he crawled diagonally, and he crawled round and round. But he did not find the key. If he had had only a little light, but he had none. He was so absorbed in his search that he did not know he had been engaged in it for several hours, and that it was the middle of the night. But at last he realized that he must stop for a rest, because his knees were beginning to feel bruised, and the skin of his hands was sore as a result of the rubbing on the flags. The cat and her kittens had gone to sleep and awakened again two or three times.

“But it is somewhere!” he said obstinately. “It is inside the cellar. I heard something fall which was made of metal. That was the ringing sound which awakened me.”

When he stood up, he found his body ached and he was very tired. He stretched himself and exercised his arms and legs.

“I wonder how long I have been crawling about,” he thought. “But the key is in the cellar. It is in the cellar.”

He sat down near the cat and her family, and, laying his arm on the shelf above her, rested his head on it. He began to think of another experiment.

“I am so tired, I believe I shall go to sleep again. ‘Thought which Knows All’” — he was quoting something the hermit had said to Loristan in their midnight talk — “Thought which Knows All! Show me this little thing. Lead me to it when I awake.”

And he did fall asleep, sound and fast.

He did not know that he slept all the rest of the night. But he did. When he awakened, it was daylight in the streets, and the milk-carts were beginning to jingle about, and the early postmen were knocking big double-knocks at front doors. The cat may have heard the milk-carts, but the actual fact was that she herself was hungry and wanted to go in search of food. Just as Marco lifted his head from his arm and sat up, she jumped down from her shelf and went to the door. She had expected to find it ajar as it had been before. When she found it shut, she scratched at it and was disturbed to find this of no use. Because she knew Marco was in the cellar, she felt she had a friend who would assist her, and she miauled appealingly.

This reminded Marco of the key.

“I will when I have found it,” he said. “It is inside the cellar.”

The cat miauled again, this time very anxiously indeed. The kittens heard her and began to squirm and squeak piteously.

“Lead me to this little thing,” said Marco, as if speaking to Something in the darkness about him, and he got up.

He put his hand out toward the kittens, and it touched something lying not far from them. It must have been lying near his elbow all night while he slept.

It was the key! It had fallen upon the shelf, and not on the floor at all.

Marco picked it up and then stood still a moment. He made the sign of the cross.

Then he found his way to the door and fumbled until he found the keyhole and got the key into it. Then he turned it and pushed the door open — and the cat ran out into the passage before him.

NEXT INSTALLMENT | ALL INSTALLMENTS SO FAR

***

READ GORGEOUS PAPERBACKS: HiLoBooks has reissued the following 10 obscure but amazing Radium Age science fiction novels in beautiful print editions: Jack London’s The Scarlet Plague, Rudyard Kipling’s With the Night Mail (and “As Easy as A.B.C.”), Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Poison Belt, H. Rider Haggard’s When the World Shook, Edward Shanks’ The People of the Ruins, William Hope Hodgson’s The Night Land, J.D. Beresford’s Goslings, E.V. Odle’s The Clockwork Man, Cicely Hamilton’s Theodore Savage, and Muriel Jaeger’s The Man with Six Senses. For more information, visit the HiLoBooks homepage.

REDISCOVERED BY HILOBOOKS: Jack London’s The Scarlet Plague | Rudyard Kipling’s With the Night Mail (and “As Easy as A.B.C.”) | Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Poison Belt | H. Rider Haggard’s When the World Shook | Edward Shanks’ The People of the Ruins | William Hope Hodgson’s The Night Land | J.D. Beresford’s Goslings | E.V. Odle’s The Clockwork Man | Cicely Hamilton’s Theodore Savage | Muriel Jaeger’s The Man With Six Senses | Jack London’s “The Red One” | Philip Francis Nowlan’s Armageddon 2419 A.D. | Homer Eon Flint’s The Devolutionist | W.E.B. DuBois’s “The Comet” | Edgar Rice Burroughs’s The Moon Men | Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s Herland | Sax Rohmer’s “The Zayat Kiss” | Eimar O’Duffy’s King Goshawk and the Birds | Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Lost Prince | John Buchan’s Huntingtower

ORIGINAL FICTION: HiLobrow has serialized three novels: James Parker’s The Ballad of Cocky The Fox (“a proof-of-concept that serialization can work on the Internet” — The Atlantic); Karinne Keithley Syers’s Linda Linda Linda (which includes original music); and Robert Waldron’s roman à clef The School on the Fens. We also publish original stories and comics. These include: Matthew Battles’s stories “Gita Nova“, “Makes the Man,” “Imago,” “Camera Lucida,” “A Simple Message”, “Children of the Volcano”, “The Gnomon”, “Billable Memories”, “For Provisional Description of Superficial Features”, “The Dogs in the Trees”, “The Sovereignties of Invention”, and “Survivor: The Island of Dr. Moreau”; several of these later appeared in the collection The Sovereignties of Invention | Peggy Nelson’s “Mood Indigo“, “Top Kill Fail“, and “Mercerism” | Annalee Newitz’s “The Great Oxygen Race” | Charlie Mitchell’s “A Fantasy Land” | Joshua Glenn’s “The Lawless One”, and the mashup story “Zarathustra vs. Swamp Thing” | Adam McGovern and Paolo Leandri’s Idoru Jones comics | John Holbo’s “Sugarplum Squeampunk” | “Another Corporate Death” (1) and “Another Corporate Death” (2) by Mike Fleisch | Kathryn Kuitenbrouwer and Frank Fiorentino’s graphic novel “The Song of Otto” (excerpt) | “Manoj” and “Josh” by Vijay Balakrishnan | “Verge” by Chris Rossi, and his audio novel Low Priority Hero | EPIC WINS: THE ILIAD (1.408-415) by Flourish Klink | EPIC WINS: THE KALEVALA (3.1-278) by James Parker | EPIC WINS: THE ARGONAUTICA (2.815-834) by Joshua Glenn | EPIC WINS: THE MYTH OF THE ELK by Matthew Battles | TROUBLED SUPERHUMAN CONTEST: Charles Pappas, “The Law” | CATASTROPHE CONTEST: Timothy Raymond, “Hem and the Flood” | TELEPATHY CONTEST: Rachel Ellis Adams, “Fatima, Can You Hear Me?” | OIL SPILL CONTEST: A.E. Smith, “Sound Thinking | LITTLE NEMO CAPTION CONTEST: Joe Lyons, “Necronomicon” | SPOOKY-KOOKY CONTEST: Tucker Cummings, “Well Marbled” | INVENT-A-HERO CONTEST: TG Gibbon, “The Firefly” | FANFICTION CONTEST: Lyette Mercier’s “Sex and the Single Superhero”

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Can Twitter Predict Major Events Such as Mass Protests? | MIT…



Can Twitter Predict Major Events Such as Mass Protests? | MIT Technology Review

Today, Nathan Kallus at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge says he has developed a way to predict crowd behaviour using statements made on Twitter. In particular, he has analysed the tweets associated with the 2013 coup d’état in Egypt and says that the civil unrest associated with this event was clearly predictable days in advance. […] First, Kallus defines a significant protest as one that receives much more mainstream media coverage than usual. He then analyses the mainstream coverage to see when significant protests actually occur and looks for activity in the Twitter feed that precedes the protests. If these are the predictive indicators, then it is possible to look for similar types of activity and assume that this is predictive too. Kallus tests this idea by studying the tweets associated with the 2013 coup d’état in Egypt, which was centered around the anniversary of President Morsi’s rule, triggering significant protests during which he was removed from power by the Egyptian army. Kallus says that evidence of the protests was clearly visible in the Twitter feed well in advance, as were the advanced protests that occurred before the anniversary. What’s more, the social media content predicted that the protests would go on for weeks beyond the anniversary. Kallus’s conclusion that tweets can accurately predict significant protests in advance is an interesting one. There’s no question that the evidence is there to be found in the social media in retrospect. There is no shortage of people who make these kinds of predictions about historical events using historical data. The bigger question is whether it’s possible to pick out this evidence in advance. In other words, is possible to make predictions before the events actually occur?
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Garry Kasparov

Garry-Kasparov-by-cool-sports-players-3

The most charismatic chess player since Bobby Fischer, GARRY KASPAROV (Garik Weinstein, born 1963) was the top player in the world for all but three months of a nearly 20-year period beginning in the mid-1980s. Born in Baku, Azerbaijan, to a Russian Jewish father and an Armenian mother, Kasparov was a member of the CPSU as a young man, but soon became a believer in an inclusive, cosmopolitan Russia and an ardent proponent of a free, democratic system — ideals which have not endeared Kasparov to Vladimir Putin or his oligarch supporters. Best known for his battles with specialized chess computers Deep Thought, Deep Blue, and Deep Junior (he famously lost to Deep Blue in 1997, a blow to the human race), Kasparov continues to believe in the superior power of human intuition and evaluative judgment. Like ancestral fellow traveler Alexander Herzen, Kasparov helped found an organization for the distribution of materials critical of the Russian regime and its strictures. Also like Herzen, he has made himself into a journalist/essayist, issuing regular indictments in varied fora of Putin’s actions and of western leaders’ inaction. In each of his fields of engagement, Kasparov stands for humanity.

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MORE ACTIVISTS: Mother Jones | Alexander Berkman | Eugene V. Debs | Big Bill Haywood | Lucy Stone | Antônio Conselheiro | Emmeline Pankhurst | Félix Fénéon | Zo d’Axa | Voltairine de Cleyre | Emma Goldman | Will Allen | Rosa Luxemburg | Émile Henry | Pancho Villa | Joe Hill | Margaret Sanger | Aldo Leopold | Screaming Lord Sutch | Nestor Makhno | Dorothy Day | Garry Kasparov | Adriano Olivetti | Mildred Harnack | George Orwell | Bayard Rustin | Abbie Hoffman | Ti-Grace Atkinson | Gloria Steinem | Rudolf Rocker | Stokely Carmichael | Angela Davis

On his or her birthday, HiLobrow irregularly pays tribute to one of our high-, low-, no-, or hilobrow heroes. Also born this date: Samuel Beckett, Jacques Lacan, Roy Loney, Michael Herr.

READ MORE about men and women born on the cusp between the Original Generation X (1954–63) and the Reconstructionists (1964–73).

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April 13, 2014



April 13, 2014

Being an only child and surrounded by childhood friends who either had a brother or sister, left me with fantasies of being part of other families.   Oddly enough, I never fantasize about the families that I knew, but more with the families I have seen on TV at the time.  I was drawn into “Leave It To Beaver” at an early age, and the show which ran from 1957 to 1963, was about a middle-class white family somewhere in the United States (not Southern California, that’s for sure) where the parents had two sons.  The youngest son was Beaver, who had a child-like curiosity about the world, and therefore I identified with him, because of his struggle to comprehend his world and the emotional landscape that his parents live in.  The other son is Wally, who is someone I would want as a big brother.



I have been caught many times by my parents when I talked to my imaginary brother Wally.  At first they thought it was either charming or cute, but my discussions with the empty space near me, got stranger and stranger to them.  I, on the other hand, was quite comfortable with my relationship with Wally.   As I grew older, many things changed in my life, but never my bond with Wally.  I often ask him for advice, and for years I had a scrapbook that just focusses on the images of Wally, who was played by Tony Dow.  At first I pretended that it was a family photo scrapbook. The illusion became reality as I got older.



When I was in my early 20’s, and by chance, I met the famous French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan, who was a friend of Andre Breton and the Surrealists.  In his later years, he was collecting photograph prints, and he contacted me because he had heard that I had a large collection of images by Pierre Molinier, who was known for his erotic self-portraits of himself either dressed as a woman or posing with prosthetic limbs, stiletto heels, dildos and an occasional confidante.  On one of my trips to Paris, I asked if I could bring up a delicate matter to his attention.  He listened to me as I talked about my obsession with my invisible older brother Wally.  At one session, we watched together at least five episodes of “Leave It To Beaver.” He was fascinated that I actually based my imaginary brother on a popular TV show.   Not only that, but a show that focuses on what looks like a “normal” American family.   He knew I had an interest in writing and he asked me who I like as a writer.  I told him that my two favorite writers are Georges Bataille and Samuel Beckett.  I didn’t know at the time that he married Bataille’s wife, and was actually a good friend of the writer as well.  He was proposed that maybe I should write a narrative with me and “Wally” as the main characters, but base it on a prose style by Beckett.



For the past thirty years, I have worked on one long piece, which I guess is a novel, about me and Wally going on a trip to France to locate images by Pierre Molinier.    The dialogue between us, is very much based on Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot,” as we wait in a train station for Molinier to pick us up for some unknown destination.  This is where the problem lies, because I don’t have the foggiest idea where that destination will lead us, but I feel that my brother need to hold my hand and direct me to the light, from the darkness of my mind.


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“The AVATAR kiosk is an automated interviewing platform with an…







"The AVATAR kiosk is an automated interviewing platform with an embedded artificial agent that is designed to flag suspicious behavior at a port-of-entry that should be investigated more closely by a trained officer. This primary screening technology is designed for use at ports-of-entry, including border crossings and airports. The kiosk also has many other security application such as visa processing and personnel screening."

Software, Demos, and Prototypes | National Center for Border Security and Immigration

"Border police in Romania are testing a technology developed at the University of Arizona that uses a virtual border agent to question international travelers and flag those that give off suspicious vibes."

What’s Up UA? - UA-Developed Avatar is Helping to Screen New Arrivals at Bucharest Airport - The Explorer: University Of Arizona

Video: Superpoliţistul „Avatar” a intrat în serviciu pe aeroportul Otopeni

To date, the AVATAR has been tested at the US-Mexico border and in several  simulation  exercises,  some  of  which  were  carried  out  in  cooperation  with Frontex.  This is the first field test that has been carried out in a European operational environment.”

BORDERS’ AVATAR ON DUTY IN BUCHAREST AIRPORT | National Center for Border Security and Immigration

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Art Of The Bush School | greg.org: the making of, by greg…



Art Of The Bush School | greg.org: the making of, by greg allen

This is as good a time as any to point out that Bush painted his portraits, not just from photographs—a common enough practice as well as a long-established conceptual strategy, though I think only the former pertains here—but from the top search result on Google Images. Many photos were taken from the subject’s Wikipedia entry. Bush based his paintings on the literally first-to-surface, easiest-to-find photos of his subjects. Is this meaningful in any way? If he had one, it would mean Bush’s studio assistant is very, very lazy. But in all his discussion of it, Bush’s painting practice appears to be a solitary one. He apparently did not tap the enormous archive of photos, taken by the professionals who followed him every day for eight years, which are contained in his giant library. Instead, it seems, he Googled the world leaders he made such impactful relationships with himself, and took the first straight-on headshot he saw. […] The point is, once again, art matters. Art has surfaced in the most dire circumstances, at a crucial moment in our society’s history, produced by someone whose actions and moral standing confound our engagement with it. And culturally speaking, we don’t care; we’d rather see Bush’s folksy pictures from the internet. Every news story about Bush’s paintings represents ten reports not filed about Bush’s torture. In the art world, meanwhile, we’d rather not see it at all. Better to condemn and dismiss it quickly. Snark and move on. Stoke the indignance that keeps us and our practices unsullied. Ward off any engagement with cowering incantations of connoisseurship and facture. This is how art appears in our society today. Art works, as they say, and this is what it does: it absolves and redeems and defuses and deflects. Ultimately, George Bush’s paintings are important less for what they show, than for what they obscure. And the art world’s critical structures seem unable or unwilling to meet the challenge posed by the art of the torture & terrorism school.
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Michael Herr

dispatches

A decade after he went to Vietnam as a war correspondent for Esquire in 1967, MICHAEL HERR (born 1940) published a book called Dispatches. His reporter’s journey to the end of the night is one of the great wartime chronicles and works of contemporary nonfiction. Suffused with exhaustion and dread, Herr’s prose is electric and disquieting, bristling with scintillating observation and insight. Herr discerned the elemental music within “in-country” lingo and rock songs. He divined messages from helmet and flak jacket inscriptions. His image of a helmet with “‘Born to Kill’ placed in all innocence next to the peace symbol” found its way into Full Metal Jacket, a film he co-wrote. (For more about his time with the film’s enigmatic director, consult Herr’s Kubrick.) If Dispatches sounds in places like Martin Sheen’s Captain Willard venturing downriver in Apocalypse Now, that’s because Herr also contributed to that film’s voiceover. In Herr’s book, Khe Sanh becomes like a jar in a Wallace Stevens poem, a Mothers of Invention song communicates more about newsgathering than any debrief. At times he writes like a combat ethnographer, as when he analyzes uniform fetishes and declares the grunts “wiggier than cargo cultists.” Elsewhere, Herr comes on like a countercultural Thucydides, weighing how the story of the war is told.

Conventional journalism could no more reveal this war than conventional firepower could win it, all it could do was take the most profound event of the American decade and turn it into a communications pudding, taking its most obvious, undeniable history and making it a secret history.

Dispatches is an incomparable testament to the psychic toll of bearing witness to war. Just as the specter of Vietnam haunted Herr’s dreams long after he was “back in the World,” Dispatches continues to haunt ours.

***

On his or her birthday, HiLobrow irregularly pays tribute to one of our high-, low-, no-, or hilobrow heroes. Also born this date: Roy Loney, Jacques Lacan, Samuel Beckett, Garry Kasparov.

READ MORE about members of the Anti-Anti-Utopian Generation (1934-43).

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Jordan and the Dream of Rogen

The other night I dreamed I was going into a coffeeshop and Seth Rogen was sitting at an outside table eating a salad.  He was wearing a jeans jacket and his skin was sort of bad.  I have always admired Rogen’s work so I screwed up my courage, went up to his table and said

“Are you…”

And he said, “Yes, I am… having the chef’s salad.  You should try it, it’s great.”

And I sort of stood there and goggled and then he was like, “Yeah, no, yes, I’m Seth Rogen.”

I feel proud of my unconscious mind for producing what I actually consider a reasonably Seth Rogen-style gag!


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Jordan and the Dream of Rogen

The other night I dreamed I was going into a coffeeshop and Seth Rogen was sitting at an outside table eating a salad.  He was wearing a jeans jacket and his skin was sort of bad.  I have always admired Rogen’s work so I screwed up my courage, went up to his table and said

“Are you…”

And he said, “Yes, I am… having the chef’s salad.  You should try it, it’s great.”

And I sort of stood there and goggled and then he was like, “Yeah, no, yes, I’m Seth Rogen.”

I feel proud of my unconscious mind for producing what I actually consider a reasonably Seth Rogen-style gag!


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kiameku: Kris Martin Idiot Library 2013 180.5 x 180.5 x…



kiameku:

Kris Martin
Idiot Library
2013
180.5 x 180.5 x 52.5 cm
library and 250 editions of “The Idiot” by Dostoyevsky

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April 12, 2014



April 12, 2014

I often just think about my life as “Little Toot, ” the tugboat child who all the other tug boats feel is useless because he (I presume it’s a he for some reason) prefers to play and make figure 8s in the bay.  Eventually the tugboat community forces Little Toot to leave and finds himself adrift in the vast sea.  I imagine myself in that role quite easily.  At one time I was working at a bookstore, having a great time there, and eventually let go, due that I love being around books, and I just wanted to play, which actually, in my point of view, was my actual work there.  Nevertheless, some disagree with my philosophy, and I was sent out adrift in the world of my own imagination.



As a teenager, I briefly met the entertainer and singer Tiny Tim at a party at Billy Gray’s house in Topanga Canyon.  I was taken aback to meet him, because I wasn’t sure if he actually exists or not.   At the time he was a star for being on “Laugh-In, ” but also was taken as a joke, due to his appearance and his rather eccentric mode of focusing on songs from the 1920s and beyond.  Also the fact that he played the ukulele and sang with a falsetto/vibrato voice.  He wore white make-up, red lipstick, and had long hair.  Tiny Tim sort of look like he was borderline homeless or even insane.   So many thought he was likely to be a comedian and he was taking the Tiny Tim character as a fictional role.   To be honest, I was confused at the time.  When I met and observe him at this gathering, I can see he was genuine and not at all, a character that was set up for the masses.  At the time, I purchased his first album “God Bless Tiny Tim, ” and recalled that I really liked it, and for sure it wasn’t a joke thing at all.  Very recently I learned that he was also in Jack Smith’s “Normal Love.” Like Little Toot, Tiny Tim wasn’t really accepted by his audience, because he was thought as a freak or a humorous figure.  In fact, he was a genuine musical archivist and more likely one of the great minds in 20th music.  Yet, I feel he was abandoned by the entertainment world, once they thought the joke was old.



It’s very hard to stay true to one’s self, when the world either ignores or ridicules you in a fashion that yells out ‘you’re not important.’  Yet, on a daily basis, the struggle to work or play is almost like sending a spit against the wind, it hits you in the face again and again.  We are often placed in a world that is none of our making, and yet, everyone demands that we operate in that landscape, and do what we are told.  I remember reading about the teen idol David Cassidy and his frustration to be taken seriously, yet, his image, even his peculiar fame, worked against him.   The crisis is trying to define oneself against what the others say you are.   With that in mind, whenever I put pen onto paper, it is a weapon against those who wouldn’t allow me to flourish in my own fashion.  Nevertheless, if you keep your vision intact, there is nothing that they can do in order to destroy you.  And yes, you drift in that vast ocean, but also there are endless possibilities where one can even visualize an Atlantis in front of them.
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Claire Danes

danes

CLAIRE DANES (born 1979) is that rare example of a child actor who started strong and remained strong. Offered work on a soap opera at age 12, she demurred to avoid mucking up her developing skills. This doggedness about focused self-improvement and pursuit of her own interests appears deep-seated and ongoing. Although she has recently been showered in gold for her starring role in Homeland, some of her finest work was as a young teenager playing high-school sophomore Angela Chase in My So-Called Life. Angela embodies the exposed nerve that is adolescence, and Danes manifests that saturation of feeling through her body. Much of the show is spent in voiceover, with Danes expressing Angela’s frustrations, unhappiness, longing, and joy through her face and her movements; it is a brilliant conceit, because much of the teenage experience is spent living inside one’s head. After one season, ABC announced it was canceling the show, seeing no economic benefit in a show that attracted an audience primarily consisting of teen girls (!). In any case, Danes intended to leave the show and writer Winnie Holzman couldn’t imagine writing the show without her in it. At age 16, Danes starred as Juliet in Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet opposite Leonardo DiCaprio. A stark departure from that remarkable porcelain doll, Olivia Hussey, Danes’ Juliet is the ordinary girl, more or less, made extraordinary by meeting Romeo. Her face transforms when she is with Romeo; fans will remember a version of this countenance in Angela’s joy when the object of her infatuation first calls her name as she’s being pushed into a police car. (As remarkable as is Danes’ happy face is her sad face.) There are those actors whom the viewer envies or lusts after, but Danes is not such an actor: She watches the world and reacts, viscerally, and she is us.

***

On his or her birthday, HiLobrow irregularly pays tribute to one of our high-, low-, no-, or hilobrow heroes. Also born this date: Shannen Doherty, Henry Darger, Herbie Hancock, David Cassidy, Tiny Tim, Georges Franju.

READ MORE about members of the Revivalist Generation (1974-82).

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completelyunproductive: Poster for The Sentinel. (1977) Loved…



completelyunproductive:

Poster for The Sentinel. (1977)

Loved this movie. Whatever happened to Christina Raines?

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“Unlike a rusting highway bridge, digital infrastructure does not betray the effects of age. And,…”

“Unlike a rusting highway bridge, digital infrastructure does not betray the effects of age. And, unlike roads and bridges, large portions of the software infrastructure of the Internet are built and maintained by volunteers, who get little reward when their code works well but are blamed, and sometimes savagely derided, when it fails. To some degree, this is beginning to change: venture-capital firms have made substantial investments in code-infrastructure projects, like GitHub and the Node Package Manager. But money and support still tend to flow to the newest and sexiest projects, while boring but essential elements like OpenSSL limp along as volunteer efforts. It’s easy to take open-source software for granted, and to forget that the Internet we use every day depends in part on the freely donated work of thousands of programmers. If open-source software is at the heart of the Internet, then we might need to examine it from time to time to make sure it’s not bleeding.”

- The Internet’s Telltale Heartbleed : The New Yorker
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Georges Franju

georges-franju

GEORGES FRANJU (1912–87) scandalized French film critics with Eyes Without a Face (Les yeux sans visage, 1960). The French simply did not do horror movies, and certainly the founder of The Cinémathèque Française would not debase himself with such a low and sensationalist genre. It must be a kind of film noir, they argued. But Franju’s work was squarely in a tradition of the fantastic and the grotesque dating to Victor Hugo’s “The Man Who Laughs” and Théophile Gautier’s ghost stories, and drawing directly on Méliès’ fantasies and Feuillade’s pulp serials. Franju brought exactly the same style to Eyes as he did to his lauded documentary about Parisian slaughterhouses, Blood of the Beasts. His camera did not flinch as horses dropped in slaughter; he lingered over the excision of a human face. Let the audience look away if they wanted, but he would not provide them with any relief. That same dreaminess, that lyricism in horror that defines Eyes Without a Face also plays over his 1963 remake of Feuillade’s Judex. With the pulpiest material imaginable — archvillains, supersleuths, masquerade — Franju drifts over the narrative, plucking iconic images out of the unreeling unlikelihood: bird-headed magicians, domino-masked thieves, nuns in catsuits, randomly arriving aerialists. It doesn’t work as a thriller, and it barely makes sense — but once seen, you’ll never forget it. It lingers like a dream made real.

Judex 51

ALSO READ: David Smay’s series of posts on Early ’60s Horror.

***

On his or her birthday, HiLobrow irregularly pays tribute to one of our high-, low-, no-, or hilobrow heroes. Also born this date: Shannen Doherty, Henry Darger, Herbie Hancock, David Cassidy, Tiny Tim, Claire Danes.

READ MORE about members of the Partisan Generation (1904-13).

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pizzzatime: zerostatereflex: Banana MRI - Source unknown



pizzzatime:

zerostatereflex: Banana MRI - Source unknown

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“Walking West is a walking art perfomance by Conor McGarrigle. April 11 2014, Colfax Avenue…”

Walking West is a walking art perfomance by Conor McGarrigle. April 11 2014, Colfax Avenue Denver.

Walking West seeks to inscribe the virtual on the physical as it combines the physical act of walking with the ephemeral digital traces of its GPS track and the invisible actions of a satellite 400-miles above capturing the scene.

The path will be marked with a physical line as a GPS device simultaneously traces a virtual digital line along the route, the route will be captured from space by a commissioned satellite photograph.



- Walking West -Colfax Ave
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Tiny Tim

tiny-tim

Was Herbert Khaury a pioneering media politician, or merely a performer whose genre had yet to be invented? The question bears asking inasmuch as Khaury’s creation, TINY TIM (1932–96), remains a mystery of the late twentieth century. His debut LP, God Bless Tiny Tim (1968), a clamorous carnival of the psychedelic and the square, as piping hot with unaddressed contradiction and domesticated freakiness as a 1968 television tube, sits easily next to the contemporaneous phantasmagorias of Donovan, The Fifth Dimension, and The Bonzo Dog Band. And in the realm of social semiotics, no performer who confounded an outrageously gay presentation by marrying an ultrafeminine woman on The Tonight Show — trilling all the while about the Christian chastity of a spectacle that was worthy of 1923 Berlin — can be dismissed as a mere put-on artist, let alone a fraud. For Khaury gave himself to Tiny, and Tiny gave himself to us, dying from a heart attack suffered on the stage of a Minneapolis women’s club. Unto death, the mask never slipped; the joke was never surrendered. Who can say for sure, even now, that it was a mask at all? Or — since the punchline never came — that it was even a joke?

johnny-carson

***

On his or her birthday, HiLobrow irregularly pays tribute to one of our high-, low-, no-, or hilobrow heroes. Also born this date: Shannen Doherty, Henry Darger, Herbie Hancock, David Cassidy, Georges Franju, Claire Danes.

READ MORE about members of the Postmodernist Generation (1924-33).

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Until a few years ago, the internet was the main (and often…



Until a few years ago, the internet was the main (and often only) way to see Laric’s works, and those of sanctioned fellow artists. Before I ever heard of him, I would often look at VVORK.com, the influential blog he ran from 2006 to 2012 with Aleksandra Domanović, Christoph Priglinger and Georg Schnitzer. The set-up was simple: an art work or two posted daily, either by one of the four founders or (usually) by another artist. VVORK would ‘curate’ not only images of contemporary works but also historical ones, predating that now-orthodox usage of Tumblr, and still contrasting with exhibition-based blogs like Contemporary Art Daily. On a random day in 2009, these posts might include a 2001 tray installation by Brian Jungen, a 2009 work by Markus Schinwald, a 1967 piece by Les Levine, and the ‘Silhouettes’ series (Untitled) by Seth Price, whose 2002/2008 essay ‘Dispersion’ continues to be one of Laric’s conceptual cornerstones. Laric believes – like Price, and as Marcel Broodthaers is quoted as saying at the beginning of the ‘Dispersion’ essay – that ‘artistic activity occurs, first of all, in the field of distribution’. (via Frieze Magazine | Archive | Iconoclash)

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April 11, 2014



April 11, 2014

Like Marcel Proust commenting on the cookie that brought up memories, the Sony transistor radio serves the same role in my life.  It was probably the first real serious object that I owned.   I haven’t the foggiest idea what the radio originally cost, but it was a magical entrance to another world.  As I was going through my storage boxes I ran across the radio, and I couldn’t believe I still had it.   For me, the first time I seriously listened to music was on this hand held machine.  The sound or the reception was never perfect, but it somehow added a sense of magic to the process.   There is what you heard when you see musicians play live, and then there is music you hear in a recording studio, and then of course on the turntable, where we had one huge speaker - mono only in the mid 1960s.  But the transistor radio had its own sound, which was tinny, and of course thinking of it now, it would be really annoying to listen to music that way.  But alas, my earliest impression of contemporary music that I liked, was on the transistor radio.  Also it was the first medium or tool for me to use that separate me from my parent’s taste.  Otherwise, I would get my music from my parents record collection and turntable.  My radio allowed me to wander into another world, where only I, can decide what to hear and when to hear it.



The two radio stations that were important to me were KHJ and KRLA.  The latter was actually more important to me because it appeared to be more Beatle related than KHJ.  That was likely to be an illusion on my part, but also the radio station had a newspaper called KRLA Beat, that was sort of like Rolling Stone for the teenage mind.  It was in this publication where I first started reading about music or I should say rock an’ roll stars as they were happening at that time.   KHJ was more personable due to it's DJ, specifically the Real Don Steele.



When I was close to 11 or 12, I went camping on the beach, which was a total horror show for me.  I can never understand the allure of nature for people. It is like they actually prefer dirt than a nice clean lighted place.  The point of time when the hot afternoon turns into a bitter cold evening is disgusting to me.  I remember spending most of the time in the tent that we brought with us.  Even that, the temperature was just so hot, but still, I didn’t want to be outside. So I put up with the heat to read the comic books that I brought with me to fight off the boredom of sand, blue sky, and ocean.  The transistor radio brought a sense of relief for me, because I used it as an object to block out the noise on the beach.  But what was really beautiful to me was playing the radio in the night, and I often would go off by myself near the ocean to sit on the cold sand.  I put the radio by my ear and it was like getting messages from another world.  I couldn’t imagine life without that radio.



Also the use of my imagination kept me alert during our beach holidays.  I imagine myself as Boy, the son of Tarzan.  Often I would imagine that my dad was the King of the Jungle, instead of Johnny Weissmuller.  I would have these elaborate narratives running through my head that I saved my dad and Jane (actually my mom) from some horrible circumstances that went beyond their control.   Those fantasies came with the soundtrack that was on the radio, and I remember actually listening to a program called  “The Shadow” while on the beach as well.  Hearing a show like that was very mysterious and a tad scary -especially in the nighttime on the beach.

Ironically I played “Boy” to Taylor Mead’s Tarzan in an Andy Warhol film, but that’s another narrative.  Nevertheless I am always thankful for Sony for bringing the magic of another world to me.

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Everyone has seen the Windows XP desktop image called Bliss….



Everyone has seen the Windows XP desktop image called Bliss. It’s been ubiquitous for 13 years. And you’ve probably always thought that the serene hillside is kind of corny and probably fake. Nothing is that idyllic. But apparently it’s real! (via Charles O’Rear is the photographer who took the Windows XP wallpaper photo in Napa Valley.)

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veganbrogans: Tranquility Forest in a Bugaloo mood. I used to…



veganbrogans:

Tranquility Forest

in a Bugaloo mood. I used to pretend that IQ and Harmony were my boyfriends. Harmony was my first Black Brit.

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streeteraser: Brick Lane, London via Brady B.



streeteraser:

Brick Lane, London

via Brady B.

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The simple way Google Maps could side-step its Crimea…



The simple way Google Maps could side-step its Crimea controversy

Now that Crimea has joined the “gray areas” of the world – the disputed territories that no one seems quite sure how to portray on a map – its cartographic status is suddenly a matter of importance. National Geographic recently got into a little bit of controversy for suggesting that it wouldn’t portray the area as part of Ukraine, for example. The situation might seem especially problematic for a service like Google Maps, which is not only one of the most high-profile mapping services in the world, but also incorporates crowd-sourcing into its mapping process (which has resulted in quite a few awkward moments over the years). Russian politicians are keeping an eye on what the mapping company is doing, with one State Duma deputy reportedly asking authorities to check with Google as to why they hadn’t portrayed Crimea as part of Russia yet. Google is smart about these things, however, and I suspect it will be able to sidestep any controversy here. Why? Because it does it all the time already. For an example of how that happens, take a look at the disputed border between China and India. Following a controversy over the status of Arunachal Pradesh (which is claimed by China but administered by India), Google took up a rather novel approach: showing China one thing, and India another.
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Louise Lasser

louise

Consider the case that Mary Hartman Mary Hartman, the short-lived soap-opera parody starring LOUISE LASSER (born 1939) was the show that decisively turned American television inside out. The series ran five nights a week for just two seasons (1976–77), and riveted audiences with its pitch-perfect inversions of the soap canon of small-town perfidy and internecine romance, even as it opened the floodgates of televisual self-parody: see Soap, of course (1977–81), but also Seinfeld, The Simpsons, Family Guy, and Modern Family. Lasser, forever fetching in her kitchen pinafore and Longstocking pigtails, left after 325 episodes; the show limped on as Forever Fernwood and would eventually spawn the excellent talk-show parody Fernwood 2 Night, hosted by Barth Gimble (Martin Mull), twin brother of Mary Hartman villain Garth Gimble (Martin Mull). Gimble’s McMahon-style sidekick, Jerry Hubbard, was played by Fred Willard in the happily clueless manner that marks every superb performance Willard has since delivered, from delusional small-town actor in Christopher Guest’s flawless Waiting For Guffman (1996) to wise-cracking father of Phil Dunphy (Ty Burrell, to whom he bears an eerie resemblance). Lasser, meanwhile, survived a four-year marriage to Woody Allen and a quiet post-Mary Hartman career, but she has executed various smart TV and movie cameos. These days you can see her playing a Manhattan artist of a certain age on Lena Dunham’s next-gen TV series, Girls. The girls know who she is.

***

On his or her birthday, HiLobrow irregularly pays tribute to one of our high-, low-, no-, or hilobrow heroes. Also born this date: Adriano Olivetti, Thomas Harris, Vincent Gallo, June and Jennifer Gibbons.

READ MORE about members of the Anti-Anti-Utopian Generation (1934-43).

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Winsor McCay’s astonishing Sinking of the Lusitania…



Winsor McCay’s astonishing Sinking of the Lusitania (1918), an early combination of animation and agitprop. It contains engrossing making-of scenes, and expresses a remarkable materiality, with a wooden frame (of the animation stand?) visibly setting off the animated sequences.

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Masterworks and facial detection.









Masterworks and facial detection.

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April 10, 2014 (100th day)



April 10, 2014

The shock of the new for me is when Paul McCartney announced to the world that he was leaving The Beatles.  I was a teenager at the time, and of course, like most American teenagers I was totally wrapped up in everything that was the Fab Four.  It was the first time that I experienced the feeling that things can’t last forever, and their breakup caused a major head-fuck for me, because I couldn’t understand at the time, why they had to break up.  I mean, couldn’t they just talk it out.  What was worst was reading the John Lennon interview in Rolling Stone that year, where he just exposed all his inner-feelings about Paul to the public.  I was not only shocked to read this interview, but I actually hated him for letting his true feelings out.  I have great faith in a world where one has the illusion of a perfect domain, and that they should with all their power, keep that world intact.   Here, Lennon was shitting on the Beatle world, therefore my world as well.



The one illusion that was important to me was the TV series “The Rifleman” starring Chuck Connors as Lucas McCain and Johnny Crawford as his son, Mark McCain.   It was the first show to portray a widowed parent raising a child by himself.   Lucas’s character is that of a rancher who purchased a ranch and is making a concerted effort to make it all work, with his son helping out with the daily duties of running a ranch.  McCain was also a excellent rifleman, and had a specially made rifle which could be fired rapidly.   But the heart of the show is the relationship between Lucas and his son.  In fact, I never have seen such a relationship before on TV or in a film.  Whenever I watch the series I felt a great deal of comfort, because the Dad here is very decent, very powerful, and is basically concerned about his son’s welfare.   Scenes where McCain is without his son, or being tortured by a villain, were extremely disturbing to me.  Looking at the shows now, they do have a sub-text of S&M, at least emotionally so.  But at the time I was totally caught up with the relationship between Dad and Son.  I felt that way about The Beatles as well, because in my thoughts, here is a gang that won’t never let each other down.



Relationships are extremely important to me, and when something unexpectedly goes wrong, it disturbs me to the very core of my being.  I often can identify with the main character in Alain Resnais’s film “Last Year at Marienbad” written by Alain Robbe-Grillet.   The man approaches a woman at a social gathering at a baroque hotel, convinced that they have met the year before, and both agreed to meet the next year.  Now that the year has passed, he sees her, but she claimed to never had met him before.  In a sense he had a ‘false’ hope that this relationship will happen, but alas, it becomes an illusion of sorts.  My expectation of relationships, through the personal, as well as through the media of film and music, is one where I find myself wanting to assume that what I see on the screen or hear is true.  And it is true in my heart, but alas, the world moves differently in another dimension.


The great American composer Martin Denny portrayed a world that was beautiful and exotic through his music.  In the 1950s travel became a huge industry, and there was a need to find and visit exotic lands, for instance Hawaii.   Denny conveys a world that is Hawaii, but now I’m not sure if that is a correct representation.  I never been to Hawaii, but I know Hawaii through Denny’s music.  My Hawaii is very much expressed in Denny’s album “Exotica.”   There have been numerous times where I could have gone to Hawaii, but I always turn down the trip because I am deeply afraid that the Hawaii that I will come upon will not be the same as Denny’s Hawaii, and I wouldn’t be able to take the disappointment.

So the fact that Paul left The Beatles left a major scar in my psyche.  But also gave me the gift to observe that I live in two lives.  Almost in another dimension, in there is a world where things work out perfectly such as Martin Denny’s Hawaii landscape, and "The Rifleman."   On the other side is the Beatles split, and the disappointment that is the heart of “Last Year at Marienbad. ”
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Computers dethrone humans in European stock trading |…



Computers dethrone humans in European stock trading | Reuters

Last year, European investors put 51 percent of their orders through computers directly connected to the stock exchange or by using algorithms, or algos, to find a counterparty, a study by consultants TABB showed. In 2012, the share was 46 percent.
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King Goshawk (15)

Cuinbattle

The 1926 satirical sf novel King Goshawk and the Birds, by Irish playwright and novelist Eimar O’Duffy, is set in a future world devastated by progress. When King Goshawk, the supreme ruler among a caste of “king capitalists,” buys up all the wildflowers and songbirds, an aghast Dublin philosopher travels via the astral plane to Tír na nÓg. First the mythical Irish hero Cúchulainn, then his son Cuanduine, travel to Earth in order to combat the king capitalists. Long before the hero of Robert Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land, these well-meaning aliens discover that cultural forms and norms are the most effective barrier to social or economic revolution.

HiLobrow is pleased to serialize King Goshawk and the Birds, which has long been out of print, in its entirety. A new installment will appear each week.

ALL INSTALLMENTS SO FAR

***

BOOK II: THE COMING OF CUANDUINE

Chapter 1: The Birth of Cuanduine

NOTE: Using the symbols of the Oxford English Dictionary, the name Cuanduine is pronounced Cōō-ŭn-dhĭn•nĕ.

These two, Cúchulainn and the fair Thalia, having thus joyously come together, she conceived a child, and bore him the full term; during which she remained always in the warm sunlight, her ears filled with symphonies of sweet music, and before her eyes the golden-spangled meadows of Tír na nÓg: which, indeed, are not more beautiful than fields of Earth pricked out with buttercups, only that they are boundless. In due course the child was born, a fine healthy boy, who, instead of crying after the manner of earthlings, broke straightway into a shout of joy, and seizing the breast as if it had been a cup of wine, after a deep draught he stood upon his legs and went running and leaping among the asphodels. He was, indeed, a marvellous fair child, that had learnt more acquirements in the womb than most children in five years of life. He had both his father-tongue and his mother-tongue (that is to say, Irish and English); he could rime and sing; he made him a pipe out of reeds, and played his own melodies upon it. He had the gift of strength and fleetness, the gift of courage and truthfulness, the gift of modesty and courtesy. Being nurtured neither on sterilised powders out of tin cans, nor on new bread and black tea (on which the mothers of Eirinn rear the finest race in the world), but on his mother’s milk only; and being naked always in the sunshine, and ever drinking in beauty through his eyes and ears, he waxed daily in strength and comeliness: and as there were none to tell him lies or bid him hold his tongue, he waxed in knowledge and wisdom also. Because of his destiny, and after the manner of his father’s naming, they called him Cú an Duine, that is, the Hound of Man.

One day, when he was six months old, the mind of the Philosopher came winging from Earth to see him, and was overjoyed to find him a lad of such promise. But after watching the youngster’s gambols for a while, and hearing some of his questions, he began to weep at realising that he could not live to see his work amongst men. At that Cúchulainn chid him, saying that it was not fitting that tears should flow in Tír na nÓg, and desired him to tell his cause of grief. The mind of the Philosopher having duly complied, Cúchulainn said:

“Weep no more. That matter is easily settled. We will consult Aurora.”

“Whom?” asked the mind of the Philosopher.

“Aurora. The Dawn Goddess.”

“I did not know she existed,” said the mind of the Philosopher.

“She lives in thousands of imaginations,” said Cúchulainn, “more familiarly than many millions whose reality is vouched for in the telephone directory.”

“True: true,” said the mind of the Philosopher. “Let us seek her. Where is she to be found?”

“In the Ether,” said Cúchulainn. “In the Nebula of Abstractions.”

Swish! went Cúchulainn and the mind of the Philosopher through the infinite void, and shot into the radiant realms of Fantasy, where dwell Mr. Pickwick and Don Quixote, Rosalind and Lady Cicely Waynefleet, with the Chimaera and the Hippogriff, the Squirryphant and the Mock Turtle, Puss in Boots and the Whangerdoodle, and the Dong with a Luminous Nose. There the hills are of crystal, and the fields are greener than the pastures of royal Meath. Cloud palaces of alabaster crown the heights, and cascades of pearl tumble into the valleys. There among the amber-dropping forests dance the Nymphs and the Dryads, and scurry the Elves and the Leprechauns. There dwell all the beautiful girls that cloy the senses of novel-readers.

Now darted three spears from the hand of the Dawn Goddess: a grey spear, and a silver spear, and a golden spear; and then Aurora herself came striding in pursuit over the crystal mountains, and overtook and caught them in her hand, shaking them over the valley. A helmet of light was on her head; a vesture of gold covered her rosy flesh.

“Lady,” said Cúchulainn, “here is the mind of a mortal that seeks extension of life.”

Aurora stopped, brandishing her spears.

“Hold,” said the mind of the Philosopher. “I would not share the fate of Tithonus by a like remissness of the Goddess. I want a modicum of youth with the extension.”

Aurora laughed and said: “What fools you mortals are. Have you not yet discovered the secret of youth?”

“Indeed, madam, we have,” said the mind of the Philosopher. “But we have not yet succeeded in making it work rightly. I will tell you briefly the history of the matter.”

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RADIUM AGE SCIENCE FICTION: “Radium Age” is HiLobrow’s name for the 1904–33 era, which saw the discovery of radioactivity, the revelation that matter itself is constantly in movement — a fitting metaphor for the first decades of the 20th century, during which old scientific, religious, political, and social certainties were shattered. This era also saw the publication of genre-shattering writing by Edgar Rice Burroughs, Sax Rohmer, E.E. “Doc” Smith, Jack London, Arthur Conan Doyle, Aldous Huxley, Olaf Stapledon, Karel Čapek, H.P. Lovecraft, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Yevgeny Zamyatin, Philip Gordon Wylie, and other pioneers of post-Verne/Wells, pre-Golden Age “science fiction.” More info here.

READ GORGEOUS PAPERBACKS: HiLoBooks has reissued the following 10 obscure but amazing Radium Age science fiction novels in beautiful print editions: Jack London’s The Scarlet Plague, Rudyard Kipling’s With the Night Mail (and “As Easy as A.B.C.”), Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Poison Belt, H. Rider Haggard’s When the World Shook, Edward Shanks’ The People of the Ruins, William Hope Hodgson’s The Night Land, J.D. Beresford’s Goslings, E.V. Odle’s The Clockwork Man, Cicely Hamilton’s Theodore Savage, and Muriel Jaeger’s The Man with Six Senses. For more information, visit the HiLoBooks homepage.

REDISCOVERED BY HILOBOOKS: Jack London’s The Scarlet Plague | Rudyard Kipling’s With the Night Mail (and “As Easy as A.B.C.”) | Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Poison Belt | H. Rider Haggard’s When the World Shook | Edward Shanks’ The People of the Ruins | William Hope Hodgson’s The Night Land | J.D. Beresford’s Goslings | E.V. Odle’s The Clockwork Man | Cicely Hamilton’s Theodore Savage | Muriel Jaeger’s The Man With Six Senses | Jack London’s “The Red One” | Philip Francis Nowlan’s Armageddon 2419 A.D. | Homer Eon Flint’s The Devolutionist | W.E.B. DuBois’s “The Comet” | Edgar Rice Burroughs’s The Moon Men | Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s Herland | Sax Rohmer’s “The Zayat Kiss” | Eimar O’Duffy’s King Goshawk and the Birds | Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Lost Prince | John Buchan’s Huntingtower

ORIGINAL FICTION: HiLobrow has serialized three novels: James Parker’s The Ballad of Cocky The Fox (“a proof-of-concept that serialization can work on the Internet” — The Atlantic); Karinne Keithley Syers’s Linda Linda Linda (which includes original music); and Robert Waldron’s roman à clef The School on the Fens. We also publish original stories and comics. These include: Matthew Battles’s stories “Gita Nova“, “Makes the Man,” “Imago,” “Camera Lucida,” “A Simple Message”, “Children of the Volcano”, “The Gnomon”, “Billable Memories”, “For Provisional Description of Superficial Features”, “The Dogs in the Trees”, “The Sovereignties of Invention”, and “Survivor: The Island of Dr. Moreau”; several of these later appeared in the collection The Sovereignties of Invention | Peggy Nelson’s “Mood Indigo“, “Top Kill Fail“, and “Mercerism” | Annalee Newitz’s “The Great Oxygen Race” | Charlie Mitchell’s “A Fantasy Land” | Joshua Glenn’s “The Lawless One”, and the mashup story “Zarathustra vs. Swamp Thing” | Adam McGovern and Paolo Leandri’s Idoru Jones comics | John Holbo’s “Sugarplum Squeampunk” | “Another Corporate Death” (1) and “Another Corporate Death” (2) by Mike Fleisch | Kathryn Kuitenbrouwer and Frank Fiorentino’s graphic novel “The Song of Otto” (excerpt) | “Manoj” and “Josh” by Vijay Balakrishnan | “Verge” by Chris Rossi, and his audio novel Low Priority Hero | EPIC WINS: THE ILIAD (1.408-415) by Flourish Klink | EPIC WINS: THE KALEVALA (3.1-278) by James Parker | EPIC WINS: THE ARGONAUTICA (2.815-834) by Joshua Glenn | EPIC WINS: THE MYTH OF THE ELK by Matthew Battles | TROUBLED SUPERHUMAN CONTEST: Charles Pappas, “The Law” | CATASTROPHE CONTEST: Timothy Raymond, “Hem and the Flood” | TELEPATHY CONTEST: Rachel Ellis Adams, “Fatima, Can You Hear Me?” | OIL SPILL CONTEST: A.E. Smith, “Sound Thinking | LITTLE NEMO CAPTION CONTEST: Joe Lyons, “Necronomicon” | SPOOKY-KOOKY CONTEST: Tucker Cummings, “Well Marbled” | INVENT-A-HERO CONTEST: TG Gibbon, “The Firefly” | FANFICTION CONTEST: Lyette Mercier’s “Sex and the Single Superhero”

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Technology – FreeD Technology Up until now, video,…



Technology - FreeD Technology

Up until now, video, broadcasting, and film has consisted of cameras capturing two-dimensional image data, which is essentially a sequence of changing flat “pixels” that represent reality. These images are then processed by either post-production facilities, or by ever-growing consumer applications, and end up transmitted and shared digitally. Our technology works by capturing reality not as just a two-dimensional representation, but as a true three-dimensional scene, comprised of three-dimensional “pixels” that faithfully represent the fine details of the scene. This information is stored as a freeD™ database, which can then be tapped to produce (render) any desired viewing angle from the detailed information. This enables a far superior way of capturing reality, which allows breaking free from the constraints of where a physical camera with a particular lens had been placed, allowing a freedom of viewing which has endless possibilities.
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Math blog roundup

Lots of good stuff happening in math blogging!


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Math blog roundup

Lots of good stuff happening in math blogging!


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amnhnyc: Recognize the Gila monster? The dramatic pink, orange,…



amnhnyc:

Recognize the Gila monster? 
The dramatic pink, orange, black, and yellow markings on this lizard’s skin may serve as a warning to predators to stay away or risk a painful bite. But the powerful venom of the Gila monster, which is featured as one of the live species in The Power of Poison, has medicinal capabilities as well: one of its components has been used to develop a diabetes drug.
Learn more about the Gila monster.

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Photo



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