Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Finger on the pulse of yesterday

Yesterday I talked about the evolving state of virtual book promotion and publicity, and suggested that in the latest hot trend to hit the online world--Second Life--virtual rights for virtual books by authors' online avatars would soon be selling for real world money. While that hasn't exactly happened yet (that I know of) I opened up today's San Antonio Express-News and discover a feature on Metaversatility, a company that specializes in positioning real-world companies advantageously in the virtual realm of Second Life:
In the past year, dozens of companies have bought land, launched businesses and started marketing campaigns in Second Life, including IBM, Dell, CBS, NBC and Toyota.

Metaversatility has already landed some big clients. Last month, the company designed key elements of Advanced Micro Devices' Developers Central Pavilion in Second Life. AMD plans to use the space for meetings, lectures and networking opportunities.

Corporations are now choosing the virtual world of Second Life for meetings, as opposed to the old standby conference call. The mind boggles. This is so close to the science fictional holographic gathering that I have to wonder how far off that leap in technology may actually be. Of course, it takes the virtual gathering a step beyond the simple popular culture view by introducing the entire avatar element. No matter how widespread this practice becomes, I have a hard time envisioning a corporation like, say, IBM gathering in a Second Life boardroom with a Sleestack knockoff debating long-term quantum computing viability with a scantily-clad Warrior Princess.
Six months ago, International Business Machines Corp. launched a business devoted to designing business applications for the virtual world. IBM recently designed spaces in Second Life for Sears and Circuit City, and it is working with more than 250 customers, said Sandy Kearney, program director for IBM's 3-D Internet and virtual business.

The virtual world offers lots of opportunities for media and entertainment, financial services, government and retail companies, Kearney said. For many companies, their virtual world plans are in the strategic early stages.

But maybe that's the appeal. Do button-down dress codes apply in Second Life? I know the virtual society has its own evolving etiquette, but how long before corporations begin issuing guidelines and dress codes for employees' online avatars? The obvious parallels to The Matrix notwithstanding, I find it fascinating to watch how an intangible virtual world is developing such a tangible presence in the real world.

Monday, March 19, 2007

Pimp Your Book

I'm attending AggieCon 38 this coming weekend, and one of the panels I'm on is the interestingly-titled "Pimp Your Book." This immediately brings to mind strobing neon dustjackets, chrome "spinner" bookmarks and hydraulic jack page-turners. Alas, that is not the gist of the panel--instead, the rather mundane topic is one of "High Tech Ways to Promote Yourself." Blogs, obviously, are front and center in this discussion. You're reading one now, a group effort conceived specifically for that purpose (the fact that the contributors offer lively and engaging commentary contributes in no small measure to a blog's success or failure). My own blogging efforts have just entered the fourth year as of last week, with my semi-venerable Gibberish having been online since March 17, 2004. Strange how recent that seems, looking back. Has that blog, or this one, resulted in any additional sales? Hard to judge. Sure, there have been a few click-throughs to Amazon.com that resulted in sales, but how can I tell if those folks wouldn't have bought my books at a convention or elsewhere? And I know that many of the regular readers of Gibberish first met me in person at a convention, or learned of me through a publication somewhere or other.

I also have a MySpace page, as well as a Facebook page. These "social networking" sites tend to be geared toward a younger set--particularly Facebook--or musicians in the case of MySpace, but there is a growing writer community that is taking advantage of these sites to construct a sort of satellite website to their existing author pages. My own homepage has languished since I switched ISP hosts six months or so back, to the point where my blog and MySpace are much more up to date. MySpace's biggest failing, however, is that so many people are trying to cash in on the promotional possibilities of the networking phenomenon that there is an overwhelming din of hucksterism. Not a good venue to get the word out on your book when every streetcorner crazy is shouting the same thing at the top of his lungs, virtually speaking.

Podcasts are also a nifty opportunity that more people are jumping on the bandwagon of. Ditto YouTube video casting. Even with the easy-to-use nature of current software and hardware, and relatively affordability of said tech goodies, pod- and vid-casting remain an arena few authors will ever venture into. We're writers, not face or voice talent. Some have naturally dynamic personalities, others (Peter Beagle comes to mind) have smooth voices that beg for broadcast. But does anyone really want to listen to me stammer my way through some random triviality on a story I'm avoiding writing by talking about it on a podcast? Doubtful.

The new in thing these days leaves all those other online opportunities in the dusty bin of that's-so-yesterday. Second Life crack for writers who can't seem to waste enough time playing World of Warcraft or Homeworld. It's the whole Sims series of games writ large--create a virtual character, and base him or her on yourself. Hold interviews and promote real-world books online, all the while promoting virtual versions of the same book to your virtual friends. I wonder how long it will take for Chinese companies to start buying and selling movie options and spin-off rights to virtual books in the real world, in much the same manner virtual treasures and gold are gamed online and auctioned off to the highest bidder via eBay. Myself, I don't even have enough time to blog regularly these days, much less write. Launching a virtual persona to promote my work would take away what little dedicated time I have left for my writing, thereby defeating the purpose entirely. Or maybe that's the point.

In any event, if you're going to be at AggieCon, drop in and tell me what a luddite I am. Like shooting fish in a barrel, I guarantee it.

Friday, March 16, 2007

Jurisprudential science fiction



"God forbid we should ever be twenty years without such a rebellion....what country can preserve its liberties, if its rulers are not warned from time to time, that this people preserve the spirit of resistance? Let them take arms... The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time, with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure."

-- Thomas Jefferson, 1787



Last Thursday the United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit, the second most important court in the land with regard to federal Constitutional matters, delivered a major opinion regarding the provision of the Bill of Rights that is most difficult to reconcile with the prevailing sentiments of cosmopolitan Americans — the Second Amendment, which reads in full:

"A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed."



In essence, the court stepped in to the longstanding debate between those who interpret the Amendment as an *individual* liberty to own guns and those who see a *collective* right of states to maintain militias. The holding: that the Second Amendment confers upon each American the right to own, and maintain assembled in their homes, weapons of the sort that would commonly be used in military service. The reasoning: the first Congress wanted to ensure militia readiness without a large standing army by requiring citizen soldiers to show up with their own guns when called to serve, and also wanted to support the Jeffersonian maxim that the threat of armed revolution was an essential, if implicit, extra-Constitutional check on abuse of federal power.



Wow. Can I have my Uzi now? How about some grenades? Is this gonna be like Red Dawn? Wolverines!

Sure, the Israelis and the Swiss expect citizens to keep military weapons in their homes and be ready to serve to defend the homeland. That all seems very culturally appropriate and mostly non-threatening. But the idea of a 100 million or so Americans showing up with their assault rifles and SUVs to defeat the invading Venezuelan hordes seems, somehow, anachronistic. Isn't that what we pay Blackwater for?

Don't get me wrong. The result, and the reasoning, deeply appeal to my libertarian sensibilities. I'm all for the grey flannel and red tie crowd being afraid of angry mobs carrying military weapons, Alex Jones and his crew driving their Ford "best in Texas" pickups up the Capitol steps. But the whole thing just seems so...science fictional.



Remember. The Declaration of Independence is not a source of law. And despite the compelling scarlet tones of Jefferson's musings, there is no express Constitutional right to revolt. To the contrary, opposing the federal government with arms is the one federal crime that is punishable by death regardless of whether any violent acts are committed:

"whoever, owing allegiance to the United States, levies war against them or adheres to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort within the United States or elsewhere, is guilty of treason and shall suffer death, or shall be imprisoned not less than five years and fined under this title but not less than $10,000; and shall be incapable of holding any office under the United States." -- 18 U.S.C. § 2381



But somehow, a popular belief in the nullifying right of the People to take back the power entrusted to the government persists, even among the elite. A meme planted in most grade schools, rationalizing the original legitimacy of the American Revolution. (Not unlike the popular belief in jury nullification sustained by a thousand courtroom dramas — the power of the People, through the jury, to disregard the law where the interests of subjectively derived "Justice" compel.) The social contract, it appears, has some implicit conditions and carve-outs.

Can you imagine the radical change in conditions it would take to rouse fat and happy Americans from their couch potato slumber to violently oppose their government? They can't even be bothered to vote!

Perhaps it makes perfect sense that policy should be guided by a futurist manifesto of permanently imminent imaginary revolution, when the whole foundation of the system is an alt-history counterfactual. The political theory underlying the American Republic derives its genius from speculative imagineering into the past and future (albeit with implementation details like the core provisions of the Constitution informed by pragmatic experience).

Hobbes is the deep core, with his counter-extrapolation of the State of Nature: an imaginary pre-history worthy of Robert E. Howard, in which groups of barbaric humans compete violently for control of limited resources — a milieu in which life is "nasty, brutish, and short." From this evocative proto-cinematic construct, he conceives of the idea of the social contract, an implicit collective consent to the governance of a sovereign with plenary Droit in the interests of socio-economic order.



Locke, the lodestone for the American Founders, examines that base and notes that, if the contract is breached by the sovereign, a right to revolt naturally follows. Providing the pseudo-legal reasoning recited in the Declaration as the natural law support for the Revolution. Laying a thread that runs all the way to the D.C. Circuit's opinion:

"...the Second Amendment protects an individual right to keep and bear arms. That right existed prior to the formation of the new government under the Constitution and was premised on the private use of arms for activities such as hunting and self-defense, the latter being understood as resistance to either private lawlessness or *the depredations of a tyrannical government* (or a threat from abroad)."

All of this purporting to be, in essence, a codification of "natural rights" derived through the projection of intellect into the Platonic (or Divine) ether. In otherwords, an exercise of the human imagination.



Meanwhile, in sunny Guantanamo Bay, Khalid Shaikh Mohammed uses more or less the same "right to revolt" reasoning while pleading in his own defense at his enemy combatant hearing, as revealed in the hearing transcripts released Wednesday — contending his own actions at arms are the moral equivalent of George Washington's.**

"[W]e derive from religious [learning] that consider we and George Washington doing same thing. As consider George Washington a hero, Muslims many of them are considering Usama bin Laden...If now we were living in the Revolutionary War and George Washington he being arrested though Britain, for sure, they would consider him enemy combatant."



Nice try! If the jihadis were to ultimately prevail and co-opt Hollywood, one can imagine this scene playing right into the line of formulaic American mythos courtroom dramas, with Tim Robbins or Tom Hanks as the earnest white boy defense lawyer, lone paladin of Justice a la Sharia Americana — Atticus Finch of the jihad.

Surely they are all fooling themselves, though. Do not hold your breath waiting for a D.C. Circuit opinion finding an actual right of revolt protects someone from criminal prosecution. It may be a dream of the alienated, it may even be a legal "reality" in the constitutions of New Hampshire, Tennessee, North Carolina, Greece, and Germany (I think I know why), but don't count on any sovereign to ever apply the right in the real world. State power backed by force of arms trumps abstract rights every day of the week on this planet. The only way one will ever find revolutionary conduct exculpated based on the right of revolution is after the 'blood of tyrants" has been spilled and the revolutionaries have won. In the meantime, here in hyperreality, we occupy the dream world future imagined by the guys in the powdered wigs, where we know we can always pull our bazookas out of the closet if it gets too bad. What's on TV?

** See also KSM's morbidly entertaining laundry list of previously unknown AQ plots, including the assassination of Jimmy Carter.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

The Seuss Also Rises

Paul Di Filippo, reading Charles Cohen's The Seuss, the Whole Seuss and Nothing but the Seuss, mentioned that in 1926, at age 22, Theodore Geisel met Ernest Hemingway in Paris.

In an alternate universe somewhere, that meeting gave rise to a collaboration.

-----

That Lady Ashley!
That Lady Ashley!
I do not like that Lady Ashley!

"Would you like to make love to me?"
"Would you like it, Jakey B.?"

I could not, cannot, Lady Ashley.
The Germans shot off my snicker-snee.

"Would you like it here or there?"

I would not like it here or there.
I would not like it anywhere.
I could not, cannot, Lady Ashley.
It happened above the Po Valley.

"Would you like it in a house?"
"Would you like it without a louse?"

I would not like it in a house.
I do not care about the louse.
I am a part of the lost generation.
I am incapable of copulation.
And you have a fiance, Mike C.
I could not, cannot, Lady Ashley.

"Would you like it in a jazz club"
"Would you like it behind a pub?"

Not in a club.
Not behind a pub.
Not in a house.
Not without a louse.
Courage may be grace under pressure.
But what is sex without the pleasure?
And you, a hedonist, are the death of romance.
How could our relationship stand a chance?
Being hard-boiled during the day is easy,
But at night it's not so easy-peasy.
But, and if, and still, I plea,
I could not, cannot, Lady Ashley.

"Would you? Could you? In San Sebastian?"
"I'm bringing along a Greek wingman."

I could not, cannot, in San Sebastian.

"You may like it. You will see."
"Or will you take solace in Bill G.?"

Friends of the heart trump rumpy-pumpy.
And he will give me a stuffed puppy.

I do not like it in Pamplona.
I do not like it with bullfights and Corona.
I prefer Burguete, and Bill G.
I prefer fishing and male company.
It's a relief from Parisian "gaiety."
And Pamplona, where you and Cohn act emotionally.
Bill G. and I can bond masculinely,
But you--I could not, cannot, Lady Ashley.

"A bullfight! A bullfight!"
"A bullfight! A bullfight!"
"Could you, would you, at a bullfight?"

Not at a bullfight! Not at tauromachy!
Brett! Lady Ashley! Let me be!

Not during fiesta! Not during siesta!
But Deus et natua non faciunt frusta.
Have you met my friend Romero?
Perhaps with him your love will grow.
Cohn may punch me and then Romero
But won't knock him down--Romero's a hero.
He's my idol, for he embodies the ethos
That you can create art in the face of violence and chaos.
So even if you ask me very prettily,
I could no--what? Romero's run away with Ashley?

"I'm in Madrid! Come get me quickly!"
"I left Romero--I won't be a bitch who raises children badly."
"It's for his own good--he's much better than me."
"But you and I could still be together peaceably."
"I still think we could be fab."
"Would you, could you, in the cab?"

I could not, cannot, in the cab.

"Would you, could you, in the rain?"

I could not, cannot, in the rain.

"It's sort of what we have instead of God."

Homines libenter quod....

"You do not want to make love to me?"

I could not, cannot, Lady Ashley.

"You will not do it."
"So you say."
"Try it! Try it!"
"And you may."
"Try it and you may, I say."

Lady Ashley! Let me be!
It's not possible, physically.
And it's not within my philosophy.
Let me explain and
You will see.

Look.
The world breaks everyone, you see.
Afterward, many are strong, like me.
But those too tough to break, it kills, truly.
It kills the very good, and the very gentle, and the very brave
impartially.
If you are none of those, and even if you write like don marquis
You can be sure it will kill you, too, but without any special hurry.
And that's what you do--dying--finally.
You don't know what it's about, and you go ignorantly.
You get thrown in and when you're off base you die--surprisingly.
Like Aymo it can be gratuitously.
Or you can get syphilis like poor Rinaldi.
But they kill you in the end, eventually.
Stay around and they will kill you, I guarantee.
Our peers were broken or died in France and Germany
And those who didn't die developed moral bankruptcy.

One generation passeth away
And another generation comes this way.
The sun also rises--but it goeth down today.
So the guy who wrote Ecclesiastes would say.
Brett, you are my contemporary
The futility of romance with you makes me wary.
You, me, Cohn, Mike, we're tainted to the core.
Love is for a generation unspoiled by war.
The flower fades to make fruit, even if it's broken, badly.
So I could not, cannot, Lady Ashley.

"Oh, Jake, it would have been damned good, you and me."

To think so certainly is pretty.

-----

Geisel and Hemingway collaborated on other projects--A Farewell to the Cat in the Hat, Across Mulberry Street and Into the Trees, For Whom the Lorax Tolls, The Garden of Gerald McBoing-Boing, and of course The Old Man and the Grinch--but I think this one is their best.

(for Erica)

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

The Storm before the Calm

There's nothing like wicked weather to make you well-disposed toward weather that's not so bad.

I just got back from a spending a week in Columbus, Georgia, where my mother lives. Columbus was stirred up like an anthill that's had a stick dragged across it. A couple of days earlier, an F3 tornado pirouetted across the north end of the city. No lives were lost, but the tornado raked numerous roofs, demolished at least one house and punched other homes and businesses in the facade, slammed a church steeple, and murdered scores of pine trees. A McDonald's was open for business under a storm-battered sign: "the sign of the fallen arches!" cracked the driver of the van in which I arrived by highway from the Atlanta airport.

The sunny weekend right after the storm, local building supply stores were busy. So were the churches: attendance seemed to be up! On Monday, I went with my mother to her neurologist. His office windows had a lovely view of an unruffled cormorant in a lake ringed with pine trees – with treetops snapped off, tree limbs sticking up out of the water, and branches, twigs and pine cones and bark all over the ground. The neurologist's office had a very near miss in the tornado.

The neurologist confirmed that my mother has senile dementia. That came as a shock but no surprise, not after last December, when she exhibited signs of mental derangement that put family and friends on high alert and led to appointments with the neurologist.

Not that Mom ever, in my opinion, was the sharpest tool in the shed. When I was growing up, she seemed to be a person with exceptionally dreary, dull mental weather. She was depressed, inhibited, unengaged in the world for years, and uninterested in reading. The last was almost unbearable for me while I struggled to become a writer and encouragement from Mom would have been nice.

But I can tell you that after dementia has manifested itself in someone's mental landscape, any kind of banal mental weather looks just fine. Like Columbus right after the tornado when ordinary wind or fog or drizzle were wonderful, thank you, and several days of balmy sun were heavenly. When Mom seemed dim-witted last week, well, after her episode of dementia in December, any less than devastating psychological weather on her part strikes me as wonderfully tolerable. In fairness to her, I should say that after she retired in the 1980's, she took up walking and dancing and developed a vibrant social life that revolved around the park, the senior citizens' center, and her Sunday school class. She enjoyed more than two decades of sunny mental weather, which greatly improved the Mom part of my life. Some of the sunniness was still there last week. She relished several two-mile walks in the park with me. And she was able to help me help her. We found an assisted living facility that seems just right for her. Ironically, it's downhill from the tornado-damaged church and sustained minor roof damage itself.

The assisted living facility's marketing director told us that at the time of the storm,which was in the evening, he'd been at home. Curious, he walked outside to look for the tornado. But he sensed an unnerving utter calm that made him run right back in the house and take cover. The next morning he climbed up onto the roof of the assisted living facility with the maintenance people to examine the roof damage. From that vantage point, they could see the tornado's track by a trail of ruined trees. It had been heading straight toward the facility. But it veered away. Tornadoes are capricious things.

Last week while I was in Columbus with her, my mother may have been in a temporary calm before the next outbreak of her mental storm. How long the calm will last we don't know. Right now she may be responding well to the modern medicines for dementia, and there may be a few more sunny days and weeks. Maybe even long enough to relocate her to the assisted living facility in good enough mental shape to adjust to the move, benefit from the assistance and the structure, and even enjoy a few years there. Dementia is capricious. It's time to take situational cover; and that's the only thing we really know now.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Real cyberpunks fix their own computers



"Real men are engineers," said the nomadic cyberpunk.

His right hand jammed a long, thin electrician's Phillips screwdriver into the nether regions of his broken laptop, which promptly began to cooperate. His left hand poured back the third shot of Serbian hooch.

"Real men," he continued, "have petrochemical plants."

Friday, March 9, 2007

Apocalypse Muzak

Is it a good sign to discover metal in your fourth decade?

We live amid a cacophony of aural stimuli, a non-stop barrage of jingling musical referents mostly designed to get our attention so we will spend some of our money. If the average urban Westerner is exposed to something like 5,000 brand images a day, surely if we started keeping count we would find we are exposed to several hundred crappy songs a day. Mostly of the nominally ambient sort, playing over the speakers in the grocery store, backtracking the advertisements, blaring from another car, or playing in the car the character is driving on the television show whose secret purpose is to put you in a mood to shop. You tune it out, but those insipid lyrics are bopping around inside your head, a chorus of well-moussed twenty-something Narcissists from five decades of so-called rock and roll declaring their raw and eternally adolescent emotional needs. A continuous loop jabbering soundtrack of pop banality dominated by Baby Boom demographics and sclerotic Big Chill daydreams, persistently burning itself back over long-cauterized neural pathways, degrading your brain like a twenty-year old TDK audiocassette taped over with a dozen different mixtapes.

For me, at least, I long ago got to the point where my *chosen* musical selections need to be devoid of lyrics and flagrant violators of the laws of accessible melody. I load my car with sonic suitcase nukes designed to clear the semiotic landscape. Music devised by secretive instro-sorcerors decrypting the keys to the hidden dimensions lurking in the interstices of the ordinary day.

So, I have been developing an alternative soundtrack for my self-imposed suburban surrealism, aural missiles in my campaign of psychological counter-warfare against the nonstop memetic onslaught of the modern mediapocalypse.



One essential ingredient is KNCT 91.3, the public radio station that serves the massive Army base north of here, Fort Hood. Most towns still have one of these, if often on AM: non-stop honest-to-God old school elevator music infused with unintentional irony. Nothing quite beats the feeling of cruising in your Oldsmobile through downtown Killeen, past the war wounded basking in the sun around the courthouse square, listening to a 101 Strings remix of "Midnight at the Oasis" counterpointed by the booming rhythms from the nearby artillery range. The playlist, believe it or not, even includes Angelo Badalamenti's soundtrack to Twin Peaks. As the call sign says, "Simply Beautiful." And yes, they stream.



Another is the insane new jazz being created by guys born after the Baby Boom. Not just the earnest irony of The Bad Plus, deconstructing FM rock with a Ritalin-age piano trio, but more adventurous horn-based improvised music. Like the myriad projects of the insanely prolific saxophonist Ken Vandermark, including the amazing funked up trio Spaceways Inc. with drummer Hamid Drake and bassist Nate McBride, that connects the dots between Don Cherry, Sun Ra, and George Clinton. Or the Scandinvian Super Skronk of saxophonist Mats Gustafsson, drummer Paal Nilsen-Love and bassist Ingebrigt Haaker-Flaken a/k/a The Thing: pure punk jazz that channels 60s garage rock through the instruments of European free jazz, blaring DIY civil defense alarms to hasten a postmodern Götterdammerung. Check out the catalog at Atavistic for a sampling.



While these guys get in touch with bop's inner Ramone, a bunch of younger American guys have been discovering metal's inner Beethoven, producing instrumental heavy guitar music with sweeping strokes that paint massive sonic landscapes of the 21st century Zeitgeist. Bands like Isis, Zebulon Pike, Sunn O))), and my personal favorite, Chicago's Pelican, who will be in Austin again this week for SWSW.



Pelican's music is upbeat Apocalyptica, if you can imagine such a thing, setting out on a different path than its art metal peers, playing in a higher key. The sound of light pushing through grey clouds. You can see the Midwestern influence. Big skies filling up with cumulonimbus the size of the Titans. Global warming-scale storms that bring sustenance in one hand and destruction in the other. And that always clear, suffusing the world with ethereal light.



Pelican dates:
March 10, 2007 - Nashville, TN
Exit In
9pm - 18+
w/ Russian Circles, Young Widows

March 11, 2007 - Atlanta, GA
Drunken Unicorn
8pm
w/ Daughters, Russian Circles, Chinese Stars

March 12, 2007 - Birmingham, AL
Bottletree Lounge
8:30pm - 18+
w/ Daughters, Russian Circles, Young Widows

March 13, 2007 - Baton Rouge, LA
Spanish Moon
10pm - 18+
w/ Daughters, Russian Circles, Young Widows

March 14, 2007 - Houston, TX
Walters
8:30pm
w/ Daughters, Russian Circles, Young Widows

March 15, 2007 - Austin, TX
Emos
7pm
SXSW Hydra Head Records Showcase
w/ Jesu, Big Business, Daughters
Oxbow, Stephen Brodsky's Octave Museum

March 16, 2007 - Austin, TX
Club Deville
1pm
21+
SXSW Insound Party
w/ Shout Out Out Out, Black Lips, Walter Meego