Windows 7

Today one of the headlines from The Economist is the following...

"An imminent Pakistani offensive in Waziristan, Windows 7 Launched, protests in Bankok.."

It is interesting that now the launch of a product is now History in the grandest sense of the word.

Where does the rabbit-hole of comodification lead?

Rubix Cubes and Jewel Quest 2

Lately two things have been consuming my time. One being a rubix cube at work and the other being Jewel Quest two during the late, borring hours of homelife.

Late last night, while playing Jewel Quest, trying to manipulate the matrix to produce 5 and 6 in a row I came to a realisation that, while obvious to everyone good at math, was totally hidden to me since I am very poor at the mentioned... That realisation was that Jewel Quest is more or less a logarythm which is interactive, and changes in and out random varables whenever you cancel a piece and as a result new jewels come into the top to fill out the matrix.

This was an interesting thing to realise becuase it made me think of all the other potential activities that I may be envolved in that are similarly live performances of a logarythm or at least of an equation where changing variables effect other changing variables.

I´m sure that none of my terminology is right in this respect, but I saw the jewel quest as a changing system that added new complications every time I cancelled or solved, I guess, exisiting factors given to me.

Anyway, the Rubix cube also presented me with an interesting idea. Let it be known again I am no good at math, but have always been interested deeply in physics.

Now, on the cube there are cells which one can switch around to put them in different positions. At first I had difficulty manipulating a block from one place, facing one way, to another facing a different way or in a different area at least. After a while I learnt how to do this, but in learning about it I realised something.

I realised that basically the switching from one side to another is tantamount to changing the dimension that that block is in, if we define the dimension of the block as being it´s relation to all the others and it´s "side". Such a change, from the perspective of the block, would be unexplainable, magical and totally imperceptable as one does it.

I am reminded of the book "flatland" where the author suggests that higher dimensions are simply not visible or understandable to those of lower dimensions. If I were to use my finger to poke into a 2 dimensional universe, the 2 dimensional creaters could only percieve the flat tip of my finger.

This is the matter of the rubix cube. The flat block, no more than the flatlander, would be able to explain the dimensional shift of his position vis a vis his past side or anything else.

In effect, when one is playing with a rubix cube, one is playing the role of a higher dimensional being manipulating a surface or the reality of a lower dimension.

The Greatness of Being Small

I've been listening to a lot of Greek lately, in addition to all my regular current events reading, and one thing that has really impressed me was the ability of the Greeks to do great things given a small amount of resources. I mean really crazily great things, like defeat 100 million Persians with 300 Spartans.

In light of my other readings, about current events, and especially the current battery of failed attempts to reform various aspects of US culture and political economy one thing became clear to me: smallness can be a huge advantage in both adaptability and creativity.

The question has been asked many times before by historians: After seeing how successful the Greeks were with their hoplites and war tactics, why didn't they copy it? Was the Perisan empire not the largest empire then ever seen? Was it not the richest? The largest? etc.

Of course it was, but it's very hugeness became a factor, in my opinion that impeded it's progress. The Persian monarch was in the habit of collecting from the subject peoples around him to form an army, would it not be very difficult to break this tradition and make his own in the Greek school? Arrogance, that of the large toward the small, no doubt also played a factor. Why should the great Persians copy the puny Greeks? We have the empire, after all, not they. Maybe their victory was a mistake. Persia is still #1. So the logic goes.

For the Greek city-states, much like the Italian city states or the modern European Nation-states, none of those excuses holds water though. Each of those small units, without any excuses to fall back on, does it's best to get the best results. If they fail they pay for their failures, historically sometimes pay with their very existence, and then try to make a better solution. The result of this is progress, technological as well as cultural on every front.

Looking at the modern us Healthcare debate through this lens I can't help but laugh a little and remember the Persians. We are the greatest, the biggest, the strongest, why learn from the little guys around us?

(Beware, the above is a dangerous attitude)

The Night Land

The Night Land is a book written by William Hope Hodgeson which is utterly stunning in it's vision, scope and cruelty while at the same time falling prey to an awful writing style and a stilted, farsicle romance.

Written in 1912 the author somehow manages to clearly imagine a sunless, hopeless, chilly future wherein the "final millions" of the Earth crowd tougether in an 8 mile high Pyramid made of metal. Against this great fortress the powers of darkness aways sit, wait, and watch. From the great pryamid at all times the masses of people can eye the watchers, huge motionless Godzilla-like nightmares that at all times are waiting for the forcefield protecting those final millions to fail or falter. All around the pyramid myriad horrors half-manifest in the darkness, threatening dangerous possbilities to this last base of mankind.

This is where the book is at it's most sucessful and why I recommend it for a very slow read. The feeling of a watching breathing doom, which never sleeps or rests but only stares is the jewl of the text. One must wonder as he wrote this if he wasn't thinking of the final conflicts between Germany, England, France and Italy that would ultimately result in 9 million pointless deaths.

The feeling of being balanced perilously in the middle of the dark nothing is well alive in the text. Add to this a great amount of very origional and iteresting ideas (I wouldn't mention everything in a review, should I?) then we have a far-seeing work, if not of prophecy, of real psychological horror.

Of the negative points I will very breifly speak. They are legion. The book is written in a childish attempt at 17th century prose. That is all of the difficulty and none of the depth. The plot itself is pretty simple (the world is more interesting by far than the plot). The love story featured prominently in the work is NAUSEATING becuase it is so saccharine. However, if you can survive all these tortures (I recommend reading slowly and possibly skipping the first non-sequitur of a chapter) then you can read the book.

You don't even have to buy it. Google has it here: http://books.google.cl/books?id=eITGn5W3q5wC&dq=The+night+land&printsec=frontcover&source=bn&hl=es&ei=h7_PSvinI5HO8QaV5tXuAw&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=4&ved=0CCAQ6AEwAw#v=onepage&q=&f=false

Happy readings!

Office Life

Hey nobody,

I have started to fall into the rythm of the new life. Now, after 3 weeks in the new company I no longer feel like I have to be careful with every decision (better to not show my incompetence) nor careful with the content of every sentence (better to not alienate the people I will have to work with).

Now more or less the office stasis has won out finnally and I come in every day and do my job without much comment. My job, in case you are interested, is translating factory production demands and questions into Chinese, then getting the answer and putting it back into Spanish. Occasionally, English gets a use here and there, if only becuase I get tired of looking at all the possible characters that I could mean when I type "ji" (the answer is in the hundreds). Those who type Chinese know my pain, those who don't, well, be happy you don't.

The co-workers are more interesting, a bit. At first they were frosty and standoffish like Chileans like to be, after that they become more normal latinos. The workday is crazily long, from 9am to7pm. In reality this means no one (exept me perhaps) actually arrives anywhere near ontime and generally drift out a little after 7.

How does working work when you have such a long day? Well I am writing this blog at work, so that should tell you. Also our rythms have to do with the factories in China, which are on a whole other schedule. . . usually each day we work in two short bursts, right in the morning when it is still possible to get something done in china, then right before we leave when the Chinese are waking up.

As for the personalities of the officemates, I don't know yet. The big boss seems somwhat combustable, but he seems to save it mostly for recalcitrant factory owners. In general the atmosphere is pretty relaxed ... and it has to be. For anyone to maintain stamina over this period of time it's necessary to have rests and bursts of activity.

If I ever get to know any of these people I'll tell my audience of none all about it. Trust me.

Taking a Clean Shower

To add you what I just put I have to very quickly sum up a month and a little more.

I was sick and tired and saw Santiago and was alittle astrainged by it, I came back to Argentina and rather liked the little time I had left, even though this was a little embittered by not having quite enough money coming in.

About a week ago I came back to Chile to start work. I had too many things to do with not enough time but somehow managed to cram it all into some sort of working package. I suffered in a frozen, cold-water shower hostel cramed with a mottley crew of Peuvian Radical Liberal party members (who were actually quite nice) and passed those few days frantically searching for a real appartment, a bed and all those other thousand comforts and conveniences we take for granted.

I did it, and secured for myself with the help of my new employer a very beautiful if unfurnished appartment in the historic part of town. It is on the 14th floor and entirely new. I could never afford this in manhattan - it´s really something to see.

The new job can be stressful and the hours are quite irregular, but everyone seems here to be in it tougether. The Chilean work ethic is not the American one and days are long and full of dilatory space with frenetic action only here and there. This is an unaccustomed kind of work schedule for me and will take some getting used to, but already I am starting to acclimated (after all I am at work now).

The Chileans are more guarded with their friendships than Argentines are and I am yet to make any real amigos. Their dialect is utterly basilectical in all aspects and I am asked constantly if I am from Spain. My way of speech sounds hilariously proper and formal to the man on the street.

Anyway, we did a big deal last night and I was up here till 10 at least in the office, so I can see how it will be. Some long days with nothing and some very full nights.

I took a shower this morning in the new appartment and enjoyed the hot water. The first time in more than a week that I had a real hot shower, and it was utterly orgasimic. I can´t describe how nice it is to feel actually clean again instead of being a dirty ball of mush, which everything from between Buenos Aires to Santiago has stuck too.

I was horrified, as I turned on the hot shower and felt its pleasing waters wash over me, to see the dirt litterally comming off in big, muddy rivulets.

Four Days in Chile - pt 1 of 2

I was sick at the time, so my recollections are all dimmed by sickness. During the whole interview process and my treks around the city itself I could breathe only with difficulty and could talk hardly at all - so bad that it took a lot of effort to get people to understand me.

Somehow I formed a presentable semblance and got everything together; but I am getting ahead of myself.

About a week ago I went to Santiago, the capital of Chile from Buenos Aires, the Capital of Argentina. I went by bus, and as I said I was sick with the flu at the time. Only now I have I found the time and inclination to try to express my little journey to myself and everyone else. It was remarkable because I was born in Chile in that same city, and had not returned since my birth, for well over 20 years.

On the day I left I got up in the morning and went to work as normal, which for mean means as an English teacher. I went to and from early morning lessons with a black duffel bag in tow. It contained my suit, a black pair of business shoes, passports (US and Chilean) and some other little things I would need in the upcoming trip.

So I dutifully lugged all the stuff to and fro. I got very tired of it very quickly due to the fact my flu restricted my breathing tremendously, and I remember sagging under the burden of the stuff and the heat of the sun (it was a hot day).

After my last lesson at 3, I met up with Richard and had an ill-advised meal at some fast food restaurant where I ate up a burger as quickly as I could. I begged him to go with me to the bus station and he assented. I wanted him to come with me because I was tired, and valued at least a little companionship before I would set out on this long and uncertain journey.

Before long we were both out of the subway and navigating our way though the squalid, teeming marketplace that squats outside the chaotic and noisome Buenos Aires central bus station. I had already bought the tickets the day before so there was no hassle with ticket counters. Rather things went smoothly until we realised that the bus had not yet shown up on the overhead TV announcing departures and arrivals. Fortunately for me I then bid Richard goodbye and entered the gate anyway, and found my bus by luck.

The atmosphere of the hulking 60s BA bus station was basically that of an airport, although denuded of wealth. Everything similar but a class rung or two lower sums it up.

We took off at five on the dot with 7 passengers in a cavernous double decker bus. The lack of other people definitely made for a more pleasant ride.

The bus was called Andesmar, and was a pretty nice little affair. The seats were large and comfortable and the ride fairly pleasant. I immediately got sick to my stomach not 45 mins after leaving (due to my unwise hamburger lunch) and made friends with an Austrian girl.

Being very sick I tried to isolate myself from her a little bit that first day. We talked for a good 30 mins at first, but soon the boring movies came on to the little television screens that the bus had to show the passengers boring movies. The hypnotic spell of it pulled most people in and chatter ceased. I went back to my seat and listened to a few HP Lovecraft short stories/novellas on tape.

They fed us a tasteless but acceptable meal, which for me was fine since my stomach had been pretty well irritated by the hamburger. I ate sparingly, but I ate.

Before long the dull and featureless pampas replaced the seemingly endless Buenos Aires urban sprawl outside the window. This in turn was darkened by the lowering sun till all was utter blackness. I stayed on awake until the very early hours, very uncomfortable with my breathing and cough. I read alot, but eventually I dropped off to sleep in the semi-cama chair. . .

DAY 2

Very bright light awoke me, and that light was none other than the reflected effulgence of a lot of snow.

Apparently we were closer to the Andes than to Buenos Aires - and it was the winter, as the seasons are opposite here below the equator. The terrain had now changed from the dull flatness of the pampas to a vista at least capable of maintaining the interest of the traveler; it not totally interesting him. The undulations and ripples of the land grew imperceptibly and new species of vegetation seemed to replace old and more familiar ones. We were entering the Argentine zone of the Andes.

We arrived just then at the bus station in Mendoza. Each of us grabbed our stuff, shuffled out in the early morning chill to the other bus, and then either went back to sleep or to watching. For me it was the latter, and I spied the earth intently as we went up and up and up subtly but now perceptively. Snow seemed to come and go but sand became a factor.

Then I began to see really great mountains, and deserts with cactuses everywhere. Once in a while a deserted structure would stand, skeleton-style, a testament to the rawness and unbroken spirit of the place. The air was very cold, but dry. Few people were about because we passed few settlements. In fact as soon as we left Buenos Aires it seemed we left the centre of Argentina, and the rest being only small sheltered hamlets strewn here and there.

The bus then really started to gain altitude and my ears popped all the time from the changes. The vista at this point recalls the American old west but probably much greater in it's size and majesty, for the Andes are something really awesome to behold. They are much larger than they appear in any picture or movie, and truly dominate all one's perception and sight. They seem to arc up endlessly and have no straight path through them, as if they present some huge and unassailable obstacle. Each one is so high that it is capped with a large white glacier and spidery rills of ice which crouch downward from it. This is all the more impressive because when one is viewing the Andes one views them often from the desert and already from a fairly high elevation.

The roads through this area are, as you can no doubt understand, tiny and perilous looking. They are well maintained, but very narrow. I never felt unsafe because of the poorness of the roads, because again I say they are well kept, but just because the bus was very large, and it seemed like the road was too narrow to hold it and other traffic at the same time.

All the same our driver was very careful, and went slow.

Eventually we passengers got to some very high areas, and got to see, as our rode wound it's way around mountains, how far up we were. This was a bit of a scare, but there was no looking back then...

Eventually we got to the Chilean-Argentine border after much strange nothingness, and were given a change to get out and walk around.

At that time we, which is me and my Austrian friend, limped our way out of the big bus and did what any good tourist does and took pictures:

(the Chilean Border station)

Our surroundings in the ICE

A mighty mountain.

A dirty and tired me.

We passed through the customs house in an uneventful way. I paid my fine for overstaying my Argentine visa 4 or 5 months. That came to 100 pesos argentinos. I went to the Chilean side and checked in. I was officially in Chile.

I immediately noticed that the Chilean officials were efficient and thorough. They inspected each bag and interviewed each passenger in an orderly manner unlike the Argentines who took a rather scattershot approach.

After we passed the boarder we had a really crazy road to go down. It was very frightening but also, in a strange way, very fun. This road is called el paso de los libertadores:

This picture is taken midway through.

A slightly better one, but my Austrian friend Lena couldn't get a photo from the top at the time.

It was an interesting crossing to say the least.

This is the end of part 1. I will post part 2 soon.

Thank you :)