Showing posts with label KICK ASS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label KICK ASS. Show all posts

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Big Friggin Announcement


Hello, loyal fans. Many of you think of me as a close friend, a confidant, perhaps a sex object. And those of you who don't know me personally certainly think of me as a bringer of news, a blogger, a paranoid whack job. Well, here's a new title for you to put by my name in your brain books' margins:

Writer.

Real, serious, honest-to-god-is-getting-somewhere Writer. I don't know if you all know this, but there's no time like the present to come out with it: I've been writing about sex and pornography for several publications and for my own book project for almost two years now, and it gets weird. Being a practical, if not radical, feminist, an intelligent, career-minded woman, and a porn writer all at once can be surreal and sometimes even difficult. But, as a writer, the money is what matters. And so is the chance to turn my experiences into a column or a book, that would maybe someday turn me into a capital-W Writer.

That day has come.

I have just landed, in no uncertain terms, a column at McSweeney's Internet Tendency. They announced it. McSweeney's is a great website, but also a prominent publisher of books by notable authors, including (I can't help it, I've gotta name drop here) Dave Eggers. And they LIKE ME! Gah!

I'll be publishing, starting sometime between now and mid-October, two columns a month for them on the subject of being a sex writer and a woman, and the issues/weirdness/hilarity that goes along with it.

I waited a few days to post this announcement because, honestly, when I got the initial e-mail I was at first too excited to type anything. I literally slammed my hands on my desk, got up and jumped up and down for a good minute, then danced around and tried to get my heart rate down to a safe level. For the next two days I convinced myself that I'd dreamed it and that it was, in fact, too good to be true.

But now it's online. And as we all know, once it's online, it's forever.

As for how this development will affect my blogging on this here site, I can't say just yet. This fall is going to be a big lurch forward for me as far as the amount of material I have to produce each month, and along with my many other projects, my blogging could be taken back a notch. We'll have to see what happens. In the meantime, I'm gonna just bask in my Writerliness. Is that a word? Hah! Who cares? I'm a Writer! I just MADE it one!

(PS - Also just got word that an anthology featuring a story of mine, which was supposed to be released in April originally, is finally finished. A buy online link with more info should be available soon. I'll post it when it is. GOD, I'm on FIYAH!)

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

For Jenelle


Prepare to go on a trip, whether you've eaten drugs or not!

Good Things Should Never End.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Best Weekend Ever


I am absolutely bone-tired, sore all over, hoarse and sleep-deprived. I hope I never have to drive over the George Washington Bridge again, and I am far broker than I planned on being today. These maladies might sound as if they add up to something bad, but in fact, as many of you know, they are signs of a Kick Ass Weekend of the Highest Degree. See below.

Friday: I was 'sick.' My 'joints were sore,' I was 'nauseous,' and I 'really just needed to rest.' This was code for: 'My great uncle from California is in town for the day to go see the Frank Lloyd Wright exhibit at the Guggenheim. He was an apprentice of Frank Lloyd Wright at Taliesen and Taliesen West from 1948 to 1949, and he is the coolest guy ever, and a very successful architect, so I am going with him to the museum and ditching work.' It was awesome. The exhibit was great and my uncle got a lot of admirers and questions as he would point to an architectural model and say 'This is where my room was.' Pretty amazing.
After I put him and my grandmother (also one of the coolest people EVER) on a train bound for Harrisburg, I set out to Nerd Nite at Galapagos Art Space. We got lost, took a cab to the right location, and on the way learned that there is a walled-off section of DUMBO that contains the crumbling shells of what used to be admirals' mansions during World War II. They are spooky as hell, and right next to the projects.
When we got to Nerd Nite, we saw... the most awesome... I can't even... I don't have words. This guy in the video below did a 20 minute speech and presentation on "Godzilla: History, Biology, and Behavior of Hyper-Evolved Therapod Kaiju" and then performed this amazing song:



It just doesn't get any better than that, friends.


Saturday and Sunday: Oh, wait, yes it does get better! On Saturday morning we rose earlier than we wanted to, 5 of us, and picked up a ZipCar to set off on The Centralia Saga, a two-day journey into the heart of the American Cock-and-Balls Art Dream via the shell of a burned out coal mining ghost town, along the way encountering the mentally unstable survivors of a 47 year old fire that still burns, evidence of demons escaping from hell, grave robbers, and the angry gods' response to our curiosity in the form of flood-like rains as we drove away. We spent a night in the very deepest darkest wilds of Perry County after encountering the natives thereof in their natural boozey habitat, and partook of the diner food nearby, played loud music with the windows down, and survived a harrowing hour-long bridge-traffic ordeal, all to come back to the city and have a smoothie. Truly epic.


Monday: Some crazy guy just came into the gallery and started singing really loud. No words, just noise. And he STARED at me as he walked by. Ahhh, Mondays in New York.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Oh you've got terrorists? We've got dead pilots...


Woah, you guys, have you seen this? There is a Boeing 777 with 247 passengers on board, about to land at Newark Internationl Airport any moment now, coming in from Brussels, with a dead pilot on board. The guy, who's been working for Continental Airlines for over 20 years, was 62 years old, and the flight crew reports that he just up and died in mid-flight "of natural causes." Everything appears to be fine as far as the actual flight goes, since there are two first officers aboard who took control of the jet quite commendably while the rest of the flight crew carried the dead body out of the cockpit and into the crew rest area after it had been declared dead by a medical doctor who happened to be on board.

This. Is. SO. Awesome.

I mean, let's just take a look at the multiple ways in which this news story is making my disgustingly soggy and dreary Thursday morning less crappy through osmosis, shall we?

1) I'm reading the book "Stiff" by Mary Roach right now, and just last night I finished the chapter about how cadavers can and cannot be used to determine the causes of plane crashes. The chapter basically went in depth about the multiple ways in which one can die on an airplane when something goes wrong. So I was feeling pretty nervous about the prospect of flying there for a good 12 hours or so, after reading that your best chance of surviving a crash lies in either a) being male (so you can push people out of your way), or b) flying first class. Neither of these were looking like options to me. But then, I got to work today, and voila! Fears dissolved! If I fly on Continental, which I OBVIOUSLY will from now on, my pilot can literally croak during my flight OVER THE OCEAN and I can be safe. I'm feeling pretty good about this.

2) Did I mention that the guy died? Mid-flight? I find this hilarious because, well, I know there are lots of ways in which people can just suddenly keel over with little or no warning, but doesn't it seem like somebody should've maybe taken a good look at him before he got behind the controls of a 777, for God's sake, and said, "Hey, Mr. Pilot, you're not looking oh so very healthy right now. Maybe you should call out today and get another pilot to do your international, trans-continental, ocean-crossing flight"? Doesn't that seem like a reasonable expectation? But, oh well, he died, everybody else is fine, and according to a spokesman for the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, "this is not an issue for us."

3) And, hey, I agree with that guy. Everybody who reads this, I would hope, has probably seen or heard the Lewis Black standup routine about how he thinks that to really scare the crap out of the terrorists, we should vote a dead president back into office. Reagan, perhaps, because that would convince them that we're crazier than they are and they should probably back the hell up. I totally agree - when the crazy get guns, one has to get crazier, I always say. And what better way to send a message to any possible plane hijacking terrorists than this? I think we should media-frenzy the crap out of this one. "Oh, yeah, you want to come on board and kill our pilot and terrorize our passengers? Yeah, well we don't CARE. This is NOT AN ISSUE FOR US. We fly around with dead pilots all the TIME. You do not scare us. In fact, now that our pilot's dead body is hanging out with the flight attendants and they've drawn some funny stuff on his face with Sharpies, let's dress him up as a stewardess and tie him to the beverage cart, just for a laugh." I can get behind this kind of mentality. Terrorists, schmerrorists.

4) And let's not forget - let's NOT FORGET - that a medical doctor who happened to be aboard the plane declared the pilot deceased. This means that, on this flight, one of the flight crew had to step out of the cockpit and say: "Is there a doctor aboard the plane today?" Or, maybe, for kitsch value, "Is there a doctor in the house?" It's like a cheesy movie. It's like Airplane. It's like Snakes on a Plane. It's like... awesome. Just awesome.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Unibrows, low-lifes, and garbage compacting...

Ah, more New York happenings. Today feels like Friday. It's not Friday, but I've asked several of my co-workers and they all agree that it feels as if it should be Friday today. I wonder what tomorrow will be like. Perhaps we'll all just sleep in and forget to come to the office... Oh, that would be delightful.

I'm a little pooped because last night I was at the gallery until 9:15, manning the front desk for a benefit party and auction for Pure Vision Arts, an advocacy/representation group for artists with developmental disabilities. While I totally support the idea, and think it's really great that there are people dedicating themselves to helping artists who might have trouble getting representation otherwise, the evening in reality was really, really, really awkward. It was me, a bunch of caterers and organizers, two other people who work for the gallery (one of whom, who lives upstate, had just contracted Lyme disease a few days ago and we were basically trying to make sure she didn't pass out the whole time), and 200 guests. About a third of the guests had developmental handicaps ranging from Downs Syndrome to autism. It was... well... awkward. But the event was catered, I got paid overtime for doing very little, AND they had Perseco. So it's all good. I'm just a little tired today.

But, nevertheless, I've seen and heard some fun things in the past two days so I thought I'd post them for your entertainment!

1) Last night, during the event, I was in the lobby of the building talking to the night front desk man, George. He's great. While we were discussing home prices in New York versus Puerto Rico, a delivery man came in with a late dinner for someone on one of the upper floors. I don't know where this guy was from - he was white, spoke very good English, but had a heavy accent of some sort I couldn't quite identify. He was mostly bald on top, with salt and pepper hair around the sides, and the most AMAZING Unibrow I have ever seen. The thing was utterly glorious. I can hardly do it justice with words, people. Now, I am not exactly a fan of the Unibrow look, but when something is done right, you have to give credit where credit's due, and let me tell you - this Unibrow was the Platonic Ideal of Unibrows. It was thick, dark, and made a perfect V on this guy's forehad right between his eyes. Perfectly symmetrical. If Spok had a Unibrow, it would look like this man's. I was in awe. I didn't say anything to him about it, because I have a feeling he hasn't cultivated it purposely and he might be offended if I said anything. But, wow, I really wanted to shake his hand.

2) On my tired, several-Perseco-ed way home, I just got on the first train to come to 59th and Lex, without looking to see if it was a 4 or a 5. Turns out it was a 4, and I ended up at Yankee Stadium, really pissed off and tired and waiting for the downtown train along with every idiotic Yankee fan ever. Usually I identify with Yankees fans and try to appreciate their zeal, but last night I was NOT in the mood. I ended up getting on a train next to this dorky older guy and his 13 year old son, who was asking kind of annoying questions to his dad, who was then mumbling the answers unintelligibly. But I did catch this little gem of conversation:

13 year old boy: Dad, how long is this train ride going to take?
Dad: Well, it's about 10:15 now, and we're at 161st street, so I'd say, depending on the low-lifes, we'll get home around 10:45.

...I can't fathom what low-lifes would have to do with the length of a train ride. Maybe he meant the MTA? But then you'd think he'd say "The low-lifes at the MTA." Certainly there were lots of low-lifes among the people leaving the stadium, but they were all already on the train and couldn't hinder it from going whatever speed it wanted. I'm stumped.

3) This morning on the 5 on the way to work, two very tall guys got on at 125th Street and stood in the doorways of my car. They were being kind of loud and annoying, almost as if drunk, but it was 9:15 in the morning. Not that I'm judging anyone who's durnk at 9:15 in the morning. But... seriously. Anyway, at some point I looked toward the one guy and noticed a giant streak of SPIT runnng down the door and onto the floor in front of him, where it was forming a big frothy puddle. DUDE! If you have to spit THAT bad while you're on the train, go OUTSIDE and spit BETWEEN the cars! Don't f-ing spit on the FLOOR! God! The subway is filthy enough with all kinds of mysterious grime and dirt - the last thing we need is somebody spitting on the door AND the floor at 9:15 in the goddamn morning! I was so angry. Sometimes I really want to just get up in people's faces and yell at them about common decency and respect for one's fellow man, but... eh... I'd probably lose the fight. This IS New York.

4) I had to run to the post office at Rockefeller Center today to drop off a package. On my walk down 6th Ave, I passed a bunch of guys who were bringing large metal grates of some sort out of a back door of a building and across the sidewalk to a truck. I just tried to get past them without getting knocked down by one of the grates, but as I went by I heard this horrible crunching, grating, squealing noise, and turned to see tha the truck they were loading was a GARBAGE truck! There were a bunch of guys around it, loading the metal grates into it one by one and watching them get crushed by the giant compactor in the back of the truck. Funnest thing ever!!


And, lastly, from our friends at OverheardInNewYork.com:

Texting teenager: Is there two "L"s in "Fordham"?
Teenager's friend: Uhh...just one, I think.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Oh, also...

Check this out.

http://www3.nfb.ca/webextension/rip-a-remix-manifesto/

Happy Saturday!

Some days, when you drank a lot of vodka the night before and still have to get up to go work 4 hours of completely useless overtime on a Saturday morning and your head hurts and when you walked up out of the subway you almost stepped in a really horrendous pile of vomit on the stairs... You just need to put on some makeup, turn on the tape deck, and pull the wig down from the shelf...

Friday, May 29, 2009

Back to the city

Well, I'm back in the city after five glorious days of laying around with friends, chasing Libby's children around, drinking, eating, and generally loving having more than a foot of space on every side of me NOT filled with some smelly person or garbage. It was glorious.

I got back to the city on Tuesday night and immediately felt the full weight of the next few weeks settling on my frail, frail, sore-from-boogey-boarding shoulders. I realized while in North Carolina (ie, the South) that I have way too much going on in my life. Too many social engagements, projects, plans, etc, and that I really really need to work on just slowing down, taking things day by day, and making sure I have some time off every now and then to decompress. But when I looked at my planner I realized that I have maybe three days in the next month that aren't already booked. And, well, that was not good. Cause I have a lot of things I want to do in my own time, for myself, by myself, that just can't happen when I'm so busy, even if I'm busy doing fun things with friends.

So, on Wednesday night I had a little bit of a meltdown. And by little bit I mean, of course, giant calamitous fit of neurosis. I accomplished nothing and started crying at the mere idea of folding laundry. It was bad.

But, the next day, on my way home, I walked by the H&M on the corner of 59th and Lexington, and out of the corner of my eye I recognized my friend Tom Napak from college staring at me in black and white from the store window. "Whaaaat?" I said, and whirled around. Yup, there he was, in all his uber-sexy glory with band-mate Tom Furey (the two of them make up Dangerous Muse), advertising their super-awesome Fashion Against AIDS shirts!! I flipped out, took a bunch of pictures on my phone, and immediately texted Tom to say congratulations.

I just got back from the H&M on 5th and 52nd, where Dangerous Muse is in the window as well. They're so sexy that their picture is hanging in more windows than Dita Von Teese, Cindi Lauper, and Katy Perry, just to name a few. Yeah. THAT sexy. Anyway, I bought a shirt - SO cute! The girl shirts are yellow and have a purple design of male and female condoms shaped into a heart! When you purchase a shirt, 25% of the retail price ($16.90 for girls, $14.90 for boys shirts) goes to HIV/AIDS awareness projects. And you get to look super awesome and chic and support the awesomeness that is Tom. Check it out. http://www.hm.com/us/#/faa2009/

So, I'm feeling better. Hell, if Tom can be in the window of H&M, I can damn well get some writing done and have time to paint, too. I'll figure it out. But I may have to lock down the old schedule for a while and say no to al ot of invites in order to get my sanity back.

Ta!

Thursday, May 21, 2009

...every time a rug is micturated upon in this fair city...

Holy crap people! Well, holy urine, I guess. NASA has successfully purified human urine into drinkable water. They're celebrating by drinking pee on the Space Station and at NASA. There's a little blurb on it in the New York Times.

Now, correct me if I'm wrong here, but isn't this a gigantic long-jump style leap toward solving drinking water problesm here on our home planet? I mean, great that the astronauts (and one cosmonaut) are swallowing their own swill and all, but shouldn't this be a huge story for places like Africa and overpopulated regions of... well... everywhere? Isn't the freshwater crisis like a humongous gigantic bomb of a story? Shouldn't we be dancing in the streets now that we can all drink our pee and not worry so much?

...Oh, wait. I forgot. No, the freshwater crisis ISN'T a big story, even though it's made huge headlines and is a horrible fucking calamity that people need to be made aware of and forced to act upon immediately so save us all from horrible parched deaths. Because people don't want to hear about it. And drinking pee? Well by George, that's just gross, folks. Way too disgusting to be real, much less a viable solution to a worldwide problem! Heck, it's even worse than that whoosiewhatsit liberal hippie notion of using methane as a renewable energy source! Hogwash! That's just disgusting.

Well, dammit, people, I'M excited! Let's go dance in the streets anyway. Start a trend. And drink our own pee.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Brain vs. Machines

Oh, thank you. Thank you, Sandra Ammodt and Sam Wang. Thank you for having some sense. Featured in the NY Times today: "Computers vs. Brains" . A ringing confirmation of my logic. Proof that I'm not the only one with common sense! Hallelujah!

Read it:

Inventor Ray Kurzweil, in his 2005 futurist manifesto “The Singularity Is Near,” extrapolates current trends in computer technology to conclude that machines will be able to out-think people within a few decades. In his eagerness to salute our robotic overlords, he neglects some key differences between brains and computers that make his prediction unlikely to come true.

Brains have long been compared to the most advanced existing technology — including, at one point, telephone switchboards. Today people talk about brains as if they were a sort of biological computer, with pink mushy “hardware” and “software” generated by life experiences.

However, any comparison with computers misses a messy truth. Because the brain arose through natural selection, it contains layers of systems that arose for one function and then were adopted for another, even though they don’t work perfectly. An engineer with time to get it right would have started over, but it’s easier for evolution to adapt an old system to a new purpose than to come up with an entirely new structure. Our colleague David Linden has compared the evolutionary history of the brain to the task of building a modern car by adding parts to a 1925 Model T that never stops running. As a result, brains differ from computers in many ways, from their highly efficient use of energy to their tremendous adaptability.

One striking feature of brain tissue is its compactness. In the brain’s wiring, space is at a premium, and is more tightly packed than even the most condensed computer architecture. One cubic centimeter of human brain tissue, which would fill a thimble, contains 50 million neurons; several hundred miles of axons, the wires over which neurons send signals; and close to a trillion (that’s a million million) synapses, the connections between neurons.

The memory capacity in this small volume is potentially immense. Electrical impulses that arrive at a synapse give the recipient neuron a small chemical kick that can vary in size. Variation in synaptic strength is thought to be a means of memory formation. Sam’s lab has shown that synaptic strength flips between extreme high and low states, a flip that is reminiscent of a computer storing a “one” or a “zero” — a single bit of information.

But unlike a computer, connections between neurons can form and break too, a process that continues throughout life and can store even more information because of the potential for creating new paths for activity. Although we’re forced to guess because the neural basis of memory isn’t understood at this level, let’s say that one movable synapse could store one byte (8 bits) of memory. That thimble would then contain 1,000 gigabytes (1 terabyte) of information. A thousand thimblefuls make up a whole brain, giving us a million gigabytes — a petabyte — of information. To put this in perspective, the entire archived contents of the Internet fill just three petabytes.

To address this challenge, Kurzweil invokes Moore’s Law, the principle that for the last four decades, engineers have managed to double the capacity of chips (and hard drives) every year or two. If we imagine that the trend will continue, it’s possible to guess when a single computer the size of a brain could contain a petabyte. That would be about 2025 to 2030, just 15 or 20 years from now.

This projection overlooks the dark, hot underbelly of Moore’s law: power consumption per chip, which has also exploded since 1985. By 2025, the memory of an artificial brain would use nearly a gigawatt of power, the amount currently consumed by all of Washington, D.C. So brute-force escalation of current computer technology would give us an artificial brain that is far too costly to operate.

Compare this with your brain, which uses about 12 watts, an amount that supports not only memory but all your thought processes. This is less than the energy consumed by a typical refrigerator light, and half the typical needs of a laptop computer. Cutting power consumption by half while increasing computing power many times over is a pretty challenging design standard. As smart as we are, in this sense we are all dim bulbs.

A persistent problem in artificial computing is the sensitivity of the system to component failure. Yet biological synapses are remarkably flaky devices even in normal, healthy conditions. They release neurotransmitter only a small fraction of the time when their parent neuron fires an electrical impulse. This unreliability may arise because individual synapses are so small that they contain barely enough machinery to function. This may be a trade-off that stuffs the most function into the smallest possible space.

In any case, a brain’s success is not measured by its ability to process information in precisely repeatable ways. Instead, it has evolved to guide behaviors that allow us to survive and reproduce, which often requires fast responses to complex situations. As a result, we constantly make approximations and find “good-enough” solutions. This leads to mistakes and biases. We think that when two events occur at the same time, one must have caused the other. We make inaccurate snap judgments such as racial prejudice. We fail to plan rationally for the future, as explored in the field of neuroeconomics.

Still, engineers could learn a thing or two from brain strategies. For example, even the most advanced computers have difficulty telling a dog from a cat, something that can be done at a glance by a toddler — or a cat. We use emotions, the brain’s steersman, to assign value to our experiences and to future possibilities, often allowing us to evaluate potential outcomes efficiently and rapidly when information is uncertain. In general, we bring an extraordinary amount of background information to bear on seemingly simple tasks, allowing us to make inferences that are difficult for machines.

If engineers can understand how to apply these shortcuts and tricks, computer performance could begin to emulate some of the more impressive feats of human brains. However, this route may lead to computers that share our imperfections. This may not be exactly what we want from robot overlords, but it could lead to better “soft” judgments from our computers.

This gets us to the deepest point: why bother building an artificial brain?

As neuroscientists, we’re excited about the potential of using computational models to test our understanding of how the brain works. On the other hand, although it eventually may be possible to design sophisticated computing devices that imitate what we do, the capability to make such a device is already here. All you need is a fertile man and woman with the resources to nurture their child to adulthood. With luck, by 2030 you’ll have a full-grown, college-educated, walking petabyte. A drawback is that it may be difficult to get this computing device to do what you ask.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

RIP Russian Rambo

This is interesting, because I've seen headlines about this story a few times in the past week, but the events described actually happened almost a year ago. They happend in Russia, from whence news takes a while to migrate to the States, but a year still seems awfully long.

No matter, though, the point is: this is one of the coolest stories I have ever seen in my life. Why did we not hear about this sooner and see it plastered on as many papers and tabloids and websites as the Rihanna beatdown? As awful as Rihanna's ordeal is (I'm not trying to downplay it - that guy should be locked up with a very large 'top,' if you get my meaning), this Russian Rambo guy went down in, quite literally, a blaze of glory that's worthy of movie deals in as many languages as command a large audience.

Check it out! This guy had been living in a shack in the woods in Russia for 20 years, hunting and trapping and using home-made pistols and myriad other weapons. He was 6'7" and had a giant bushy beard, was batshit insane, and had actually managed to keep all attempts at law enforcement at bay by being, for lack of a better term, absolutely fucking terrifying. He had captured and held hostage several local officials who had wandered into his "territory" in the woods, releasing them with threats after holding them at gunpoint for hours and effectively scaring the shit out of all their buddies, then backed up those threats not to invade his space by torching 30 homes in the area. He'd become such a legend in the area that locals say they wouldn't let their children out of the house without dogs to accompany them - even though many of their dogs had been killed by his traps.

And, when federal officials finally decided to crack down on this "Rambo" figure by sending out six specialists to get him, he wounded two with some of his arsenal before setting a swath of the forest aflame and somehow circling around behind the officers, and preparing to fight them to a man. As one of the officers put it, "It was pure chance the sniper suddenly saw his figure in the trees and pulled the trigger. He shot him right in the head and he died in a flash."

This dude is impressive. I am in awe. I think it's a damn shame they killed him, because I'd love to have heard his stories from in prison, or better yet, to have heard of his legend haunting the Russian forests for years to come.

Not exactly on topic, but impressive as all get-out, and I wanted to share.