| THE SHOW SO FAR Dispatches from the fringes of Late Capitalism/notes on propagating rare trees. |
|
Wednesday, January 28, 2004
The parallel to the Open Source software movement is striking here and it would seem reasonable that botanical otaku and computer hackers form alliances against the privatization of the genetic and intellectual commons. (More on this to come . . .) Hudson's explicitly "uncopyrighted, all rights released" catalog reflects his attitude towards open source botanical germplasm. Maybe he should put a Creative Commons license on it. It's worth sending away for his catalog just for the narrative! Here is a sample entry:
Perhaps most endearingly, Hudson (like me) hates telephones, warning potential callers that: "I HAVE NO BUSINESS OR PERSONAL TELEPHONE . . . If your 'phone doesn't ring, its me!"
Tofu comes across as looking pretty bad in his analysis and Manning winds up making a good case for bagging the occasional venison. posted by oliver | 9:55 PM Saturday, January 24, 2004 Metamorphosis
I've been driving due south, straight as an arrow for hours, through an endless, landscape of clear-cut rainforest, the sky the colour of lead, the highway slick with rain. Giant logging trucks send up huge rooster tails of slimy spray that settles on my windshield. The frenetic slapping of my hapless wiper blades can barely keep up. Most of the trucks carry loads of spindly second-growth fir, but I am shocked to be passed by one carrying logs from ancient, old-growth trees, probably over 300 years in age. Such loads are becoming rarer now that most of British Columbia's ancient coastal forest has been liquidated, much of it in my own lifetime. It is hard to believe that the monotonous and ravaged landscape through which I have been driving was once completely covered with such giant trees, among the tallest on earth. Occasionally a ragged eagle flaps up from the broken-off snag of some ancient conifer, somehow left behind in the initial logging frenzy. It amazes me that eagles can still survive here. These enormous raptors seem like they are from another age. Maybe they've learned how to eat garbage. . . The highway is lined on both sides by a 3 metre tall fence, an impenetrable barrier to keep terrestrial wildlife off the road. It must be a powerful deterent. I've driven down this desolate highway dozens of times and have never seen a deer or one of Vancouver Island's disappearing elk, anywhere near it. There is even a band of fine wire mesh at the fence's base to keep out inquisitive rabbits. The old Subaru's engine reeks of burning oil and carbon monoxide as it strains to maintain the 120 kph cruising speed. Finally, pulling into Victoria, I slow down enough to see the snowdrops blooming, incongrously white in the dun metallic light of the late January afternoon. The pink flowers of Viburnum bodnantense, the colour of Barbie flesh and the spidery yellow little firework explosions of Chinese witchhazel glint out from behind the glossy green hedges of this surreal, faux England. I come to the end of the road, park the car and walk down to a limpid gray sea. In the distance, past the bobbing beds of kelp, past the invisible shipping lanes plied by endless convoys of container ships stuffing the maw of a million Wal Marts, looms the darkness of the Olympic peninsula. The sullen mass of America. Above it floats a faint, lens-shaped orange glow of what, were it not for the all-pervasive gloom, might pass for a sunset. The eye of Sauron?
I've come to Victoria to attend Phillip Glass's piano recital. Now, I've always thought that Mr. Glass was kind of a one trick pony. But what a magnificent trick! The mesmerizing tinkling, the mesmerizing tinkling, the mesmerising tinkling . . . . woven in and out by what can only be described as sonic musings. The notes develop the consistency of October rain falling on the Pacific. A scintillating pitter patter modulated by rolling, swell-like undulations. I am carried away by Witchita Vortex Sutra, written by Glass as an accompaniment to the words of Allan Ginsberg in 1973, during which Ginsberg declared the end of the Vietnam War while standing at the exact geographic centre of the United States of America. The war didn't end with the utterance of this poem but maybe it helped spin the vortex of opposition a little faster. William Burroughs lived in Lawrence Kansas and died there in 1997. Glass talked about visiting him. I wonder if Burroughs clicked the heels of his ruby loafers when his number finally came up. There's no place like home, even for Bill Burroughs. Somewhere in my boxes of junk, I think I have a silent super 8mm film of Burroughs giving a reading in Toronto, sometime in the early 1980's. I'll have to watch it again to see if it is *boring* or Fetish::Footage. Burroughs wasn't exactly physically animated, even in life. I remember that he seemed to be in an oddly embalmed state, pickled perhaps by his own sardonicism. It was like he could live on its fuel forever. Also in Glass's program was an accompaniment he wrote for a performance of Jean Genet's The Screens as well as a haunting piece Mad Rush, composed in honour of the Dalai Lama's visit to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York. The piece has no set ending and was written to be more or less played indefinitely because, as Glass recounted: it wasn't clear as to when His Holiness was actually going to *show up.* On January 21st, a couple of days after the concert, The New York Times reports in its 'On this Day' section, the 80th anniversary of the death of Lenin. His eternal question of "What is to be done?" still rings in my ears. Never before have the progressive aspects of socialism seemed so far from our grasp. Even liberalism has become a dirty word. Of course Lenin's revolution failed in a multiplicity of ways. It more or less had to. But what talk is there now of a replacement for capitalism? We are left with neither baby nor bathwater. Perhaps we should replace our governments with the disembodied neurons of rats? Maybe that *is* what's running the world. Only we don't know it yet. . . Currently there is a robot located in Perth Australia, that is being controlled by a rat brain in a petri dish in Atlanta USA. The rat brain is telling the robot to make art. Check out slashdot's lively discussion on this subject An article in the always frighteningly interesting Defense Horizons, urges the Pentagon to continue the work of Cold War era Soviet scientists on protein-based electronics which use genetically engineered bacteriorhodopsin from an extremely old bacterium Halobacterium halobium to create *pattern recognition* devices. Bacteriorhodopsin has holographic properties which can be used to create biological, three-dimensional memory and *situation awareness* devices. Defense Horizons reports:
The article also describes hybrid biomolecular diodes that operate via photosynthesis, to make extremely effiicient photo-voltaic converters. Such a protein-based photovoltaic coating on a soldier's Kevlar helmet could produce enough power to run a laptop computer. It's too bad that all of this amazing technology gets developed just to facilitate human slaughter. I'd love to be able to slap some of that protein-based photovoltaic coating on a bike helmet for example, and charge up my laptop as I rode down the street. (Of course that would be s-o-o geeky . . .) Sunday, January 18, 2004 I've been slogging to keep blogging and have jumped to a new blogging platform using Movable Type. It took a long time to set it up, but if you're interested in THE SHOW SO FAR's new and improved incarnation, check out THE SHOW SO FAR at oliverk.org. I will continue posting to this (oliverk.com) blogger site for a while until most of you readers start to make the switch, so change those bookmarks, when you get the chance ! The cool thing is that Moveable Type allows *comments*, so the blog will be way more interactive. Tuesday, January 06, 2004 Orange Alert:
At this time of year, many people suffer from the blues. I seem to suffering from an annoying case of the 'oranges' (er, maybe the 'reddish oranges') Jim Bell of Cornell University and member of NASA's Mars probe team told a press conference he was "in shock and awe" over the quality of the images delivered by Spirit's panoramic camera. The orange tinted picture, shows a desolate plain full of small boulders and dust. It was eerily reminiscent of another kind of picture that we have been seeing a lot of lately. It seems sad, while humanity mounts its most determined effort ever to see if life once existed on the planet named for the god of war, that back here on earth life has never been cheaper. The picture on the right appeared on the ElectronicIraq.net site last March 27 and shows the aftermath of American cluster bombs dropped on a farm, just outside Baghdad. Four people were killed and many others gravely injured. The journalist recounted:
One eyewitness describes the aftermath:
Amidst all of the excitement about the search for life on the red planet, the journal Nature reports that our own earth is rapidly becoming a *dead* planet, with a staggering one million species of animals and plants predicted to go extinct within the next 50 years, due to habitat diminishment caused by global warming. Sadly, even species residing in protected areas will go extinct, as the climate changes around them. This happened recently to Costa Rica's exquisite Golden Toad which vanished forever, after an unprecedented drought made its breeding impossible.
Well at least we can look forward to Chinese New Year. January 22nd ushers in the Year of the Monkey. Orange trees are considered lucky by many Chinese, symbolizing good fortune and prosperity and hence are often displayed around the New Year. I snapped this pic of a beautiful pet orange tree in New York's Chinatown.
posted by oliver | 8:39 PM |
|
||||||||||
|
|
|||||||||||