disclaimer: did i ever lie to you?
The mark of launch-and-learn publishing: corrections are generally made within 36 hours. Reduction for print-out is 80%.
by Jouke Kleerebezem
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...is where it is happening if nothing happens here. >+ Check and balance.
Listening to France Culture. Listening to the Beastie Boys' 'I'm so sweet like a nice bonbon.'
disclaimer.com (>+ taken, for the exact purpose I would use it for)
But they can use some suggestions to make it all a bit more sophisticated. Disclaimers are today's Angst Meters, more than anything else.
- This site includes historical materials that may contain negative stereotypes or language reflecting the culture or language of a particular period or place. These items are presented as part of the historical record.
(>+ Ad*Access, Anno Domini 2000)
We just lunched outside.
Listening to Jeff Tweedy singing 'in the beginning we closed our eyes whenever we kissed we were surprised to find so much inside.'
When I fetched the mail from the box outside the fence just now, to live here came as a sudden shock to me. Can you imagine? My amazement, after nine months. The pride. The weather is cold but fair. The valley near and wide, from the absence of foliage. There's the pale low sun, straight south at noon, filling all the rooms. Now it's me who is surprised to 'find so much inside'. The sun sympathizes and sends me an extra customized ray at the moment of writing. I say to myself I was struck because I've been inside the house behind my computer for way too long. I know better. Madness.
This is a major achievement. People like Gary Price make the Internet a better place. >+ Direct search, search tools and directories (236+k links, text only). 'While general search tools are essential for retrieval of Internet materials many users do not realize that large amounts of information are not easily searchable via these tools.' File under: 'underhyping the Internet', Big. From >+ Ad*Access, 'images and database information for over 7,000 advertisements printed in U.S. and Canadian newspapers and magazines between 1911 and 1955' to the >+ Subway navigator, in case you want to get from Gare du Nord to Gare de Lyon to come see me, one of these days.
Still listening to Marc Olson and Sharleen Spiteri singing 'I'm in love but I must have picked a bad time to be in love'. And back to Beefheart's 'I look at her and she looks at me, in her eyes I see the sea, I don't see what she sees in a man like me, she says she loves me'. Concluding the day: Country Joe and the Fish's 'Let's hear it for the good guys, Hurray!, let's hear it for the bad guys, Booooo!...'
The Entertainment SuperHighway
Do you buy ± 'extraordinary opportunities for enhancing creativity and learning, for trading and relating across borders, for safeguarding human rights, for realizing democratic values and for strengthening pluralism and cultural diversity are clearly inherent in the new world heralded by the Internet'? I don't. We've been hearing this for Internet eternity (ever since the early 90s). And this time and age is supposed to be post-ideological? Keep it real. It's not AOLTW per se. Just who wants to enhance their creativity and learning, to trade and relate across borders, to safeguard human rights, to realize democratic values and strengthen pluralism and cultural identity, in their lifetime? Ne quittez pas. Antidotal: >+ http://www.domainists.com.
Wap-It-Up for the Next Design Fix
Check the latest in design challenges: >+ wap-up that interface (courtesy today's >+ Cybertimes, New York Times, which sees Europe do the hand-held). WAP (Wireless Application Protocol) is a worldwide standard for providing Internet communication and advanced telephony services to mobile phones, two-way pagers, personal digital assistants and other wireless devices (courtesy: >+ Edge Consultants). I see a wapload coming...
Stroom uploaded their >+ Infoarcadia bits. From January 25, at their space in La Haye NL. Meanwhile in a parallel reality:
- Every communication, every transaction of information is embedded in and fed by fast background calculations in the network. Every new transaction in turn feeds these calculations and builds the system's intelligence. Doing so endless histories are written. At any moment these histories are retrieved from the system's memories to identify new relevant transactions.
Real time interactivity with a systematic memory still scares the shit out of most people.
(from the upcoming inf0Arcadia E version, at http://www.ciw.net/inf0Arcadia/infoarcadia-index-E.html)
crisis: 1. the point or moment just prior to a decisive and critical change. 2. an unstable or uncertain situation, as in international relations, that has the potential for sudden change.
>+ Reason's Second Annual 'Dynamic Visions' Conference (On the Verge) speakers and links. The lens is libertarian but some people looking through have interesting views (Rodriguez). Found this advertized over at Bionomics Institute as an alternative for their own conf, lost in the biosphere since 1997. We rubbed our brains until smoke came out our ears in 1993, at BC#1.
Pattern Language 2.0 (courtesy >+ Robot Wisdom)
- Even things such as tract houses that are earmarked by identical aluminum windows, aluminum sliders and 4-by-8 sheets of plywood that are responsible for the tremendous sameness -- the shaping and cutting of these things will be so much easier, there will no longer be a payoff for using things the way we have been for the past 40 years.
Until now, where architecture is concerned, 'people haven't been in a position of power,' Alexander said. 'All of a sudden, they look on the Web and see that people are offering stuff that is unique to the individual's needs. It becomes a natural way to do things.'
Just as we can go into a store and have a computer custom-built to our specifications, Alexander foresees a time when we can go to the Internet for information that will allow us to build custom dwellings. 'My organization is about to put out a Web site to help people do this on a massive scale,' he said. 'The essence of this Web site is to create a means for millions of people to do their own thing.
'We hope to have a nationwide network of builders working together on this thing -- a tool for people and designers and builders.'
After housing, he said, the Web site will help people move to the layout of neighborhoods, streets and communities.
Some while back, in The Production of Houses, 1985, a beautiful book if only for its photographs, CAcs stated:
- What we must find is a system of production which is capable of giving detailed, careful attention to all the particulars which are needed to make each house 'just right', at its own level, at its own scale, and which is yet at the same time efficient enough, replicable enough, and simple enough so that it can be carried out on an enormous sccale, and at a very low cost.
Overlooked the 26-67 character leapfrog
-fortoolongalready.com (still available). Wonder if I can still change nqpaofu.com to notesquotesprovocationsandotherfairuse.com? Let's hear it for dotcomification! Now if you'll excuse me I'll get back to my > inf0Arcadia translations/rewrite (update soon, 2000wrds to go).
At the Internet Content Summit in Munich on September 9-11, 1999, the Bertelsmann Foundation presented the >+ 'Memorandum on Self-Regulation' (>+ pdf download):
- More than any medium that has come before it, this interactive tool empowers its users with the freedom to communicate, to distribute, to seek and gather information, to develop and disseminate opinions. Extraordinary opportunities for enhancing creativity and learning, for trading and relating across borders, for safeguarding human rights, for realizing democratic values and for strengthening pluralism and cultural diversity are clearly inherent in the new world heralded by the Internet. The new information technology will improve openness, transparency and efficiency at all levels in public as well as private domains. The Internet will change the way people live. Such change holds promise and it holds challenges.
The memorandum is addressed to governments, the Internet industry and users, to regulatory and law enforcement authorities, to self-regulatory initiatives, to childrens' advocates and user-representatives. All will have to take on responsibility for Internet content. Cooperation among all will be needed to put these recommendations into practice.
Excuse my Deutsch...
...just when I had given up on it %-)
So what's it gonna push out (of its way)?
John T. sent me a def version of Paul Hawken's (Natural Capitalism) first hand report on the WTO protests in Seattle last November. Two odd pieces of information to cross my desk with only some hours between. Hawken's a very long piece and I wish I had time to read it right now. Please mail me if you want a quick copy. Scarier than fiction.
- The police were equipped with U.S. military standard M40A1 double canister gas masks; uncalibrated, semi-automatic, high velocity Autocockers loaded with solid plastic shot; Monadnock disposable plastic cuffs, Nomex slash-resistant gloves, Commando boots, Centurion tactical leg guards, combat harnesses, DK5-H pivot-and-lock riot face shields, black Monadnock P24 polycarbonate riot batons with TrumBull stop side handles, No.2 continuous discharge CS (orto-chlorobenzylidene-malononitrile) chemical grenades, M651 CN (chloroacetophenone) pyrotechnic grenades, T16 Flameless OC Expulsion Grenades, DTCA rubber bullet grenades (Stingers), M-203 (40mm) grenade launchers, First Defense MK-46 Oleoresin Capsicum (OC) aerosol tanks with hose and wands, .60 caliber rubber ball impact munitions, lightweight tactical Kevlar composite ballistic helmets, combat butt packs, 30 cal. thirty-round mag pouches, and Kevlar body armor. None of the police had visible badges or forms of identification.
The demonstrators seated in front of the black-clad ranks were equipped with hooded jackets for protection against rain and chemicals. They carried toothpaste and baking powder for protection of their skin, and wet cotton cloths impregnated with vinegar to cover their mouths and noses after a tear-gas release. In their backpacks were bottled water and food for the day ahead.
High Fidelity, A Blue Million Miles
Beck's Midnite Vultures is sort of a TAFKAP HiFi OD pastiche with some surplus Peaches and Cream à la Beefheart licks mixed in. Just when at wake-up time the concept of HiFi dawned on me, this morning I receive this long mail from this artist man ± QS, who apparently reads my posts here. He's a non-believer, but no luddite. Asks me about the net's fidelity for the arts (not his words). And when I will be sending this mail I owe him... Now I'm all tunes and love these days so I pick Don van Vliet from the shelves and tune to Clear Spot.
how'd you get a name like crazy little thing
probably the name that drove you crazy all along
she's got the answer to the answer
and my only question is
how old are you
how old can you be?
(high pitched chorus, the Blackberries) you won't find out from me...
...and from one of the best love songs, evva:
her eyes, yeah her eyes, her eyes are a blue million miles
far as I can see, she loves me
Captain Beefheart, Clear Spot 1972
So my man QS wants to know about this fidelity thing (h**k, there's that little line I was searching for when thinking of Clear Spot when listening to Beck's Peaches and Cream: '...mister Zoot Horn Rollo, hit that long lunar note, and let it float...', it's in Big Eyed Beans from Venus) ...cause they're on the right track... In the early 1980's I had the guts to step up to Van Vliet after a concert and ask him to exhibit his paintings at our De Zaak artist space. He had just been pushed into the art world big time by Julian Schnabel and showed with Werner, then Cologne. I chatted with guitar player Gary Lucas who gave me his NY phone number, just in case. In retrospect his lyrics and music is his hifi contribution, not the run paint run run abstractions. Cover art. Which BTW reminds me of >+ Heinz Edelmann (of Yellow Submarine fame), whose studio in Scheveningen I visited when in art school. He throws his originals away, they're mere models. The print is the original. Beefheart's covers are the original Beefheart visual art. So QS, man from omission, has this Fidelity Q: on behalf of all of us here I think it is safe to say that it's all licks 'n lyrics, good stories, wild talent, all over the net these days. No kidding renaissance. Hi Rockin' Fi. Respect.
Did I tell you Rolf finally started talking French? To the cat. And to the horse. Not to us. His Dutch reading has the French accent. Mon Dieu, what have we done?
Recast all hope
A propos recasting ± Rotterdam CS (where you can buy your peanut butter, but not find someone to carry your luggage, at least not in the direction you want it to go) et al, fixing drug related destruction... drug market control (not: governments trying to make the profits which today the street is making!), i.e. (some form of) legalization, would be the very first step towards crime paralysis (are tobacco and liquor industries criminal organizations? Some are, you might reply. What makes them legal?) and monitoring the real problem (people desperate to destroy themselvesnot all its side effects which are now measured. Should people be allowed to self-destruct? Some should, you might reply. What would make it legal?), and its scale. A whole range of judicial adjustments (from migration to tax to penal laws) to tune the way we live together in Western democracies to contemporary needs and habits of sanity, security, mobility, work, cultural expression, material well-being and the right of high, would have to follow... Who would you trust these concepts?
We eat one of the cocks which we butchered yesterday. Well, we... uphill farmer Sylvie Seutin passed by to show us how to do it. Bind its feet together, hang it upside down and cut its tongue to let it bleed to death in some minutes. We had no sang froid to do it after her. She killed all 4 by herself. Which usually takes her 1 hour, freezer ready. We slowed the process by helping her. I boiled the water to immerse them before plucking, no-softy G. assisted this and even gave removing the intestines a try. At dinner our feelings were mixed, with an undertone of deeper understanding, which will certainly not increase this household's meat consumption.
Gonna Mail Myself To You
Send Mail, Will Travel... alas, networked media do not allow for such frolic. The image always appealed to me, especially the contortionist part of closing the box and getting it to the post office. Purely consumptive, taking-in-only, transportation is very much like being mailed. So passively I peered through the holes in the box as much as possible, after yesterday Paul had mailed me back home from Rotterdam Central Stationpublic space from hell, swarming with petty criminals and drug related petits voyous, especially when the trains from France arrive, like no other place that I know, and certainly making the Amsterdam CS junkie scene a folklore operation in comparison. The sad thing is however, that as well as we know what fuels the release system that generates losers like the ones nervously checking the escalator which rolls down from the platform, as undecisive are we about fixing it.
On the lighter side of things: what other scenes did grab my attention, peering from behind the 'to: Moulin du Merle' label? Random License Observations/Intoxications: the quality of the salmon and fromage frais sandwiches at the UpperCrust kiosk, Gare de Lyon, international departures; people carrying their animals while travelling; Giubileo! >+ www.piuitalia2000.it, on a huge billboard, above aforementioned kiosk; a woman with a biblical face, departing with her family, for Milano; another woman throwing up half inside, half outside the GdL loo, being cursed by yet another woman, the loo caretaker, but supported by her boyfriend who ran for Kleenex; handcuff swaying police machismo towards an entertaining Havanna swinging (attempt to bribe the security) older Italian guy; a long wall painting at the station, showing pastoral scenes from all southern destinations, only half covered by added ticket booths, proving that however buildings might learn, not so do the architects; then, the actual dark landscape around Auxerre: glimmering curved hilly roads, midnight rains, being the only one out there, speeding home.
For an information revolution to make any overthrowing sense, try harder. Peer from behind the labels into the world. Don't forget always to return to sender. Keep it real, Kleenex ready.
LIBO: the 'link is in Belgium' Observation
Only from a bird observation site the following comment could come, like >+ Parus World linking to the >+ Electronic Nuthatch (link is in Belgium). Nuthatches BTW narrow their nest entrance with mud and climb down trees head-first. Both Nuthatches and a variety of Paridae (aka Tits) swarm the garden, when the latter found their way to the food I supplied. When I wouldn't be an artist, I'd probably choose to be a >+ Bioacoustic researcher. What was this classic book on the acoustics of the world, that Justin Benett once mentioned to me, after having attended a lecture by David Thomas (Pere Ubu) on the subject. Where's Justin, so that I can ask?
Aller et Retour
St.Germain-des-Bois - NL becomes a route, like there was tea trails, crusades, smuggle paths, and the shortest and most silent way to sneak out of your bedroom and disappear into the wild night at the age of YMMV say a statistical 14. I'm beginning to understand the roads to Laroche, the railway station's underpass, its platforms, the Gare de Lyon and the RER fast subway to the Gare du Nord, the Thalys' bar and gangway back and forth to my seat as part of my territory.
NL à GOGI
In a few hours I'm off to NL to see and stay with Paul, and do some work. Back in an estimated GOGI (gate out, gate in) 38hrs.
Breaking News (or: 'Who's Who in the 20C')
- Turner, married three times, has five children. Fonda has also been married three times, and has three children from her earlier marriages. Turner and Fonda have several residences, including a 7,000-acre spread in Montana, where they raise bison.
(from: >+ CNN)
- We need so many love songs because the imperative rituals of flirtation, courtship, and mate selection that are required to guarantee the perpetuation of the species and the maintenance of social order -- that are hardwired in mammals and socially proscribed in traditional cultures -- are up for grabs in mercantile democracies. These things need to be done, but we don't know how to do them, and, being free citizens, we won't be told how to do them. Out of necessity, we create the institution of love songs.
(Dave Hickey, 'Unbreak My Heart, An Overture', from Air Guitar, 'writing love songs for people who live in a democracy'... love that line...)
Listening to: White Rabbit, Friday On My Mind, Happy Together, Summer in the City, Green Tamborine, Whiter Shade of Fucking Pale, Nights in White Satin, et al. We just love to love. What else is there? Age old Q. The best scenes in past days' mini DV home movies show John and Rolf after he hurt himself in a chase, and roemer and John, the first in anxious anticipation of being grabbed by the latter. Look at that face... What else is more immediate than love and play?
The amount of Té Bheag (not your average té) taken in increases my mellow, without making me drunk. Unless love is drunk, per se. Love without object is love of life, love of absurdity, love of irony, love of experience, love of risk, love of mistake, love of doubt, love of ambiguity, love of fight, love of love: love of self allsure, +for the rest of you: l'amour pour l'amour. Boy, am I mellow tonight. I relaxed on the yellow bed in the salon, with the cat without a name, I laid back and sipped my Té and drift off. And I couldn't care less about the perpetuation of the species.
A quoi pensez vous?
Libération: >+ A quoi pensez vous? Anthropologist Marc Augé:
- Je pense à la nécessité des oeuvres, et notamment des oeuvres de l'art, qui se construisent contre l'évidence, et aspire à la réapparition des auteurs, dans tous les domaines de la pensée, pour que ne s'efface pas de notre horizon intellectuel l'idée, non évidente, d'une nécessaire mais difficile et conflictuelle solidarité entre les individus et la société, entre les hommes et les oeuvres, entre les sujets et l'histoire dont ils sont l'objet.
Like >+ Paul, I was thinking of generosity.
The New Year oxygen intake took us uphill today, to the plain and our firewood parcel. Weather was great, some of us took of their coats and pretended it was spring time (remember I saw this yellow butterfly last week, the one that started all the stormy trouble, and we all the time see lizards that should actually hide under a stone until MarchPhilippe says the real Y2K bug is the climate).
Slowly some of my favourite sites start releasing their turn of the century impressions. Yesterday daytime (the little of it that we witnessed, thanks to R+r who kept us awake) was spent in peace and quiet, with the visit to Le Mazot as the major treat. We brought oliebollen and champagne, they offered us gateaux and vin doux. More Parisian friends of theirs passed by. We were sitting in the one real living space of the farm, with its huge brick and green tiles stove.
Ended yesterday with Sacha Baron Cohen character's >+ Ali G, innit: all da best interviewz plus nuff unseen footage. John and Kristi gave me da video, as a prez. Boyakasha! hilarious stuff. Keep it real.
So here she comes. Where we are this year, she enters in total silence. We've opened the doors to the terrace to welcome the future and all we hear it accompany is the drone in our own ears. And the faithful Beuvron. Not a single piece of fireworks heard or seen (or smelled) makes this a wonderfully strange beginning of a new year, and period.
Barbara sends me email from the past, her future is still another 6 hours away. I hurry back to Normandy oysters (they're dangerously cheap here and as we found out the food-of-choice around this time of year) and champagne. I light one rocket for the hell of it, it flies into our willow and bursts it into pink. The smoke slowly drifts west. All of a sudden Philippe and Delphine mail in to wish us Bonne Année, from their Parisian friends' holiday house 1,500 meters further up our hill! On his laptop they have been browsing my sites... hey, we've left 20C all right. This projects our business of life. Tomorrow we're invited at the farm for a drink. I call Joke and Paul and Andrea, who's out. Back with our little party I propose a toast to everyone we don't know, which is accepted as a sensitive and optimistic gesture. Kristi later sends some incoherent azerty email to mutual friends. When she goes to sleep I finish the beverages cruising for Y2K amuck, to find none. Y2KQED. Wicked.
Woke up on Jimi Hendrix' Machine Gun, recorded live at Fillmore East in NYC New Year's eve 1969-70. Little did I expect at the age of 16 that I would in later life be overlooking a misty Beuvron valley, still being moved by his guitar and dedications... ('I would like to dedicate this one to a soldier drag you've seen that's been going on... all the soldiers that are fighting in Chicago and Milwaukee and New York, oh yes, and all the soldiers fighting in Vietnam'). We've come here from the past.
I'm up before everybody else. A quick online round past the morning media unsettles me. Hysteria rules the popular press, in every aspect. We've dramatized the birth of a new age more than enough to my taste. About time to get back to the business of life.
More December days, waiting for a new agenda
Roemer's birthday brings over Erik and family, for one night, and John and Kristi who will stay over New Year. The latter bring presents for all the family and we spend Wednesday like it is Sinterklaas. Finally we welcome another long anticipated new family member, one who immediately finds a warm spot in R+r's heart and bed and whose relationship to the other characters in the household we will have to watch carefully for more lessons of life: the Action Man Ninja figurine (writing this down I remember Buzz Lightyear's arrival in the Toy Story household). I go to bed early with a stomach ache. Could our drinking water be spoiled with Beuvron spill? I watched the river go around the tank. Will see tomorrow. First there's email waiting to help ourselves into the next calendar. Old and new friends. Yet to say hello to Philippe and Delphine I still have to drive over to their farm, where apparently part of the barn's roof flew off over Christmas. I'll present them some of my genuine Dutch oliebollen later today or tomorrow.
Will a new calendar bring a new agenda? I realize I don't even have one. The past years I had always 2 or 3 from Gil's stock. She supplied to the loyal customers who owned one of her cases. Moving to the Moulin broke with some old traditions. Like having an agenda. Heureusement Barbara Bloom restored the tradition of sending calendars with a brand new agenda product, listing an idiosyncratic choice of celebrations and memorizations: January 1 is Year 6713 (Julian) Feast of Circumcision (Chr.); Ramadan (Islam); Ind; Haiti 1863, Sudan 1959; Zapatista Rebellion: Mexico 1994; E.M. Foster 1879, Xavier Cugat 1900, D. Salinger 1919, Patricia Highsmith 1921. Good Morning 21C! We've come to you from the past.
December Yellow Butterfly and Other Omina
Soon Including: First Butterfly Spotting; All Moulin Pics Which The Broker Never Showed; The Sans Electricity Sans Water Sans Heating Sans Guests Lobster Leftovers Xmas; Why One Doesn't Update, When Engaged In Other Matters That Require Immediate Attention, Allthough It Makes One Feel Bad; Et Cetera, Ad Infinitum, Or Nauseam, Semper Idem, The Usual.
Since it doesn't make a whole lotta sense to keep the 14 December complexity entry up for eternity (in 3 days coming to a venue near you), and since I do not yet feel like publishing what has come after (later, in the #22 archive), I just make it be known that the Moulin was flooded ojuredewy, as an afterthought of the Lothar hurricane which hit parts of France and Germany last week-end. Furthermore I heightened the library to an impressive 10ft; we have a black cat which is probably going to stay, whose name as far as I'm concerned could be Fred, or Son of Calamondin (S aussi, for short), or Y3M; I saw this butterfly; I now read the unpublished manuscript that Philippe and Delphine dedicated to the unassisted home birth of the first two of their three kids; I owe QS an email, since I dreamt that he did not want to see me anymore; a propos dreams: the two nights before today's flooding, I first showed Joke around a flooded Moulin, and the night after I happily received the exhibitionist congratulations on the purchase of the Moulin, by some interesting woman, before I woke up to the sound of the river rising; Can't Stop makes sense; I act local a lot these days, if only to show off my fresh shave; Who are you seeing? Have it your way Y2K.
Actually today December 29 is Roemer's 4th birthday so you could send him your congratulations which he will read in a few years from now and re-read when he is 17 and re-read when he is 30something and SMILE a killing smile at the world, so you're welcome at >+ email@example.com.
To prevent escapist behaviour with so called users, do not link within the body of your dear utterance but use extra listing/linking instead.
relevant linksIt's no secret: generosity rules if you want it.
(all of a sudden, apéritif in the >+ Plaza Hotel Oak Bar, with Andrea and/or Barbara, comes to mind'd love to step by there for a few hours). Search the other extreme.
bastion of peace and information
I DIE for change:
the studio visit getting to know the moulin
second floor (attic), east room and landing, 9 November 1999
sousterrain (cellar), main storage, 12 November 1999
barn, horse stable, 16 November 1999