Not A Dollarshort

Random Vignettes from the past week

At a Thai Restaurant

Mena: Shhh. Listen. Doesn't that sound like Little Fluffy Clouds?
Ben: Um... Yeah.
Mena: You don't even know what I'm talking about!
Ben: Yeah I do. The song. It sounds like Little Fluffy Clouds.

I listen to the song being played in the restaurant. It's the kind of standard Thai melody that is heard in, well, Thai restaurants; of all the songs in the world, it's probably the one that sounds least like The Orb's Little Fluffy Clouds.

Mena: Do you really think the song currently playing sounds like Little Fluffy Clouds?
Ben: No.
Mena: Then why did you agree with me?
Ben: I don't know.
Mena: For the record, I was referring to the woman at the table behind you. She sounds just like Rickie Lee Jones and she's talking about rainbows.
Ben: Oh. I didn't hear her.
Mena: Whatever.

Walking home, ten blocks, uphill.

Mena: I don't get it!
Ben: What?
Mena: Why am I not losing any weight? We walk everywhere!
Ben: Well, where are we walking from now?
Mena: The European Food Market.
Ben: And what do you have in that plastic bag?
Mena: Beef Piroshkis. Point taken.

Watching televion, a 1-800-Collect commercial featuring Mr. T.

Mena: Do you think Mr. T's agent allows him to shave his head?
Ben: Doubt it.
Mena: Can't Mr. T ever go on a vacation from being Mr. T?
Ben: I fear he may be a bit typecasted.
Mena: Poor Mr. T.
Ben: I think he's fine.
Mena: I bet he pities the day he shaved that mohawk.
Mena: He "pities the day!" I didn't even intend to make that joke!
Ben: Yeah, that's some good stuff.

Carousel of Social Progress.

From the Smithsonian National Museum of American History, Within These Walls is the beautifully designed online companion to the exhibit of the same name.

"One house tells the stories of five families and 200 years of history."

Link via Spinning-Jennie

And it's not from the Library of Congress.

"The Ad*Access Project, funded by the Duke Endowment "Library 2000" Fund, presents images and database information for over 7,000 advertisements printed in U.S. and Canadian newspapers and magazines between 1911 and 1955."

Some interesting finds from this collection: "104 of 106 independent stations want "better pictures", "I turned the music louder to drown out the silence", "What Will I See On My Television Screen?"

Once you've browsed through the ads and, as Coudal Partners suggests, spent "one day on the art direction, another day on the type, and a third on the copy," make sure to explore the other collections housed by the Rare Book, Manuscript, and Special Collections Library at Duke.

Including, but not limited to:
Medicine and Madison Avenue
The Emergence of Advertising in America
Historic American Sheet Music Collection

Link via Coudal.

We should be together.

Not until I heard the Pet Shop Boys' The Night I Fell in Love (Lyrics) with my own ears would I actually believe its sweet sweet existence. No really, it's a real song on a real album.

We'll be seeing the Pet Shop Boys in a couple weeks at the Warfield, where, we'll no doubt be surrounded by the flick, flick, flicking of cigarette lighters and those kids with their crazy sort of cigarettes. And to think, just last week someone called me a narc ^*. Go figure.

^* If I was really a narc, I would have gone so 21 Jump Street on the teen girls sitting behind us at last night's the Kids in the Hall show, who, in great giddy detail, so discussed their comparitive KITH and Dave Matthews concert buzzes. As if!

Of course, I'm just bitter because I wasn't allowed to attend Kids in the Hall shows when I was seventeen.

Music always sounds better in large spaces.

A downside to attending a great tech conference is that by immersing yourself in a world of possibilities, you quickly grow frustrated by how the world actually works.

For example, at one point during a break in the conference, I found myself sitting in a rather large room where music was being played on a loudspeaker. One song that I knew and liked came on and, for a few seconds, I actually believed that, with a touch of a button, I could download the song to my computer -- instantly.

Sure, I could have gone on Kazaa or LimeWire to search for and download the song, but what if I didn't even know the title or artist? What if I didn't want to "steal" the song but, as a conscientious consumer, instead wanted to simply learn who recorded it and what album it was on?

Let's say that for legal reasons the song (playing on the sound system) itself wasn't downloadable but instead you could freely download a sample, artist and track information onto some sort of handheld device. Think of all the embarrassment this would save shy record store shoppers. You've seen High Fidelity -- if you ask about the identity of a song, the clerks will indeed laugh at you for (1) your lack of musical knowledge (2) your ease of persuasion. Besides, if they wanted you to ask what the song was, they wouldn't prop the jewel case on top of the store stereo.

The key to all of this being really great (besides the assumed universal wireless access) is that every song and every location would be represented: Ocean Beach Safeway (and their never-ending Elton John soundtrack) to the Warfield (and their pre-show Outkast remixes).

(It wouldn't hurt to be able to download the songs, either)

I guess what I'm looking for is some sort of 21st-Century Personics System that actually has a decent catalog of music to choose from.

Update: Thanks, Ryan, for posting the URL to this Daily Ping entry which contains links to mentions of The Personics System on the Web.

Impulse buy.

Last week, while attending the O'Reilly Emerging Tech Conference, I realized that Ben and my system of sharing one laptop (Ben's) at conferences was really not working. It didn't work because, when using his iBook, I always felt like I was on borrowed time. Ben wasn't the happy camper either when I'd hand over his computer with 24% of the battery remaining -- these are just the sort of obvious problems that would arise when two people who really like computers are sharing one computer.

So, last Wednesday morning, before we headed down to Santa Clara, we stopped at the Apple Store in Palo Alto and I purchased the mid-range iBook model for myself. I had held off for months because I had wanted to purchase a TiBook to replace my desktop G4. I figured, if I can't use my current 19" monitor and set the resolution to at least 1152x870, then what's the point of purchasing a new computer?

The lure of wireless access over at the Westin and at our apartment, and my rationalization that my eyes need a break, was all the motivation I needed to make this impulse buy. ( I consider anything that takes less than 6 months to decide an impulse buy).

I was very happy with my impulse buy.

Then yesterday, Apple released a slightly updated version of the mid-range iBook. No big deal. Apart from the increase in speed from 600 to 700 Mhz and an improved video card (which doesn't seem that improved), I wasn't terribly distraught.

Technically, I have until the 25th to return the computer. For the $149 opened-box fee, I could have the newer model. Still, I don't want to be the type of person that returns a computer and complains about newer models.

And then, today, my trackpad started sticking.

I think I subconsciously willed this computer to have a problem. That way, I figure, I could feel justified in returning the machine.

But I'm a grin and bear it sort of person. I don't return things. Period.

So, here's the question. Have any iBook owners noticed this problem? Basically, my cursor will either disappear for a few seconds or just freeze onscreen. It doesn't seem to be happening in Classic mode so it doesn't look like a hardware problem.

Ben says I spend too much time in bed with the thing -- and that the static electricity from the linens and my pillow is screwing up the way the trackpad should work.

What do you think?

By the way, we thoroughly enjoyed the conference. While we attended a number of sessions that didn't directly apply to our work and what we're developing, the mere act of attending these talks (and just sampling from the pool of excitement) was enough to invigorate us into thinking of new directions for our own projects. I think that's how I've learn to judge a successful (in my opinion) session or talk: Just how much does my mind race (not wander) while listening to a speaker speak?

All Alley Cat. All the time.

Mena: Listen to this.

I proceed to play Al Hirt's rendition of Alley Cat.

Ben: Oh God, that's annoying.

Mena: You know what it sounds like?

Ben: What?

Mena: Me. This song is like being trapped in my head.

Ben: Yeah, I could see that.

Mena: I am Alley Cat.

Ben: Well, it's cute in an annoying sort of way. That's not bad.

Mena: I don't want to be Alley Cat.

Little people in a little world.

The trembling earth and my mention of the Outer Richmond's sandy past causes me to recall the wonderful collection of Panoramic Maps from 1847-1929 at the Library of Congress.

Be sure to check out the city of San Francisco: Birds eye view from the bay looking south-west - circa 1878. (I can't find a way to make a permanent link to this map.)

And for those not in San Francisco:

List of Geographic Locations

Remember to zoom! The details are fantastic.

Stop it.

Motherf'er, I hate earthquakes.

Okay, say you're in an apartment -- the top of three stories -- in the Outer Richmond (formerly known as The Great Sand Waste). Do you stay inside or run outside?

I need to know these things.

I'm such a failure.

Vintage Labels: The Lost Art of Travel and the History of the Luggage Label

This is the sort of link that would have appeared in A Day Late, which, you'll notice, is defunct. Getting A Day Late up and running again is dependent on how quickly my clone can be delivered.