What album will you bring on your Robinson Crusoe adventure?
Greil Marcus let American rock writers chose their album and justify their choice in Stranded.
I can continue reading this type of literature forever. Or create a blog on it. Or a podcast. Or maybe there is one, but I don’t know about it. And I am too lazy to check it out.
The book describes a beautiful image of the 60s and 70s and of course specifically the rock scene at the time when vinyl was still mainstream. Some of the bands have become pretty obscure. The Ronettes, ok I still remember them and may kids may have heard a song from them once. But Little John Willie, Hugh Smith, … WTF, as they would say. I can’t even recall having heard of them. And I was into music, in my time (reading ferociously on the topic: Oor, Rolling Stone, NME, what had you).
The first one leaving a note, I will send the book for free (item condition: read).
Changing the ticket to flight through Johannesburg to Amsterdam was horribly expensive: 6000 euros (single economy ticket).
I went for it. If all’s well the customer is paying.
The ride to JFK was very stressful. We underestimated the travel time to JFK during rush hour. So I rushed out of the car into the checkin, just to find out the flight to Johannesburg is cancelled. A large row of malinformed people waiting.
A small boyish girl eventually informed me. Then I discovered that the travel agency had made an error changing my original return flight to Amsterdam to go through Joburg. I was not booked on the original flight. And therefore could not get a ticket for the alternative flight via Atlanta they offer.
In the very noisy departure hall I called my travel agency. They could do nothing else than arrange the Marriott close to JFK while making arrangements for me.
In the Yellow Cab we passed a movie scene: a bunch of people around a fire in an oil drum.
Contact with the agency in the hotel room. They arranged an alternative flight for the next day.
Checked out at about twelve and back to the airport with the Yellow Cab. At JFK, the driver gave me a blank receipt. He grinned: ‘Now you expense a million dollars’, put my suitcase on the pavement and jumped back in the car.
At the Delta desk the price for the new ticket had gone up from 2900 the agency promised, to 4200 euros. I did get a very helpful lady from Delta, and a ticket in return. That totaled up the total flying cost for this trip at 6000 euros.
The flight was less difficult than expected, but I also slept less than expected. On the other hand, I watched three movies: Bewitched (crap), Batman Begins and Caché. Caché with the most beautiful woman on earth: Juliette Binoche. I finished The God of Small Things too. Wonderful, though in my mind I associate it with the dreamy state of half-consciousness I was in while reading the book.
I checked in at the unavoidable Sandton Sun and Towers hotel. Villamoura, the restaurant in the hotel is an absolute must. Their calamari is exquisite. I collapsed after that.
I wanted to go there immediately. Fantastic, these all American images on that site. I imagine sitting on the porch of one of these houses, in a rocking chair. All according to the cliches. Cowboys shouting in the saloon next door.
Horses loosely attached to the fench rail.
Sporadically cars drive by, suspending large clouds of dust.
At least four reasons to stop at Seligman on your Route 66 road trip:
Vroeg wakker. De wind is gaan liggen. De krekels hebben de overhand gekregen. De muggen zien hun kans schoon, en hebben het voorzien op A. Ik sla er een plat. Een grote rode plek op het laken. Hij is traag geworden van al dat bloed.
Gisteren de oude Fiesta ingeruild na een lekke band. We waren die auto helemaal zat. Onveilig, vies, onbetrouwbaar. Het verhuurbedrijf is om de hoek hier. Ik denk dat ze bijna failliet zijn. Oude autos, geklooi met overpompen van benzine.
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De behaarde Griek zit in een hemd achter een buro dat is volgestapeld met papieren. Hij zeurt over benzine. Ik over dat ze ons een lege tank, vlakke banden en een brakke rem op pad hebben gestuurd.
Maria staat hier al voor zevenen beneden bij het hotel, klaar voor een dag werk.
De wind is nu gaan liggen -10 uur ‘s avonds. De insecten komen uit hun holen.
Knossos viel wat tegen. Pesteind rijden vanuit Plakias, maar wel een mooie route, tussen Plakias en Rhetymnon. Van Rhethymnon en Iraklion volgen we een saiere outeweg langs de kust.
Knossos vereist veel energie. Energie om je voor te stellen hoe indrukwekkend groot dit paleis moet zijn geweest. Energie om je voort te bewegen op het snikhete terrein.
Er staat eens suppoost met een parasol en een fluitje. Als er iemand buiten de hekjes stapt, blaast ze op haar fluitje en gilt ” Get Out!”.
We eten in een dorpje voorbij Bali. Een Russische familie zit aan de tafel naast ons. Een klein varken hangt in de winkel aan de overkant te besterven.
Het is nu echt warm. We zouden bidden om wind, als we gelovig waren als de Grieken.
In the 30th anniversary edition of ‘The Selfish Gene’ (2006) Richard Dawkins writes a vile but correct comment on Fred Hoyle‘s misrepresentation of Darwinism in an endnote (pp. 277-278). He ends his note:
‘Publishers should correct the misapprehension that a scholar’s distinction in one field implies authority in another. And as long as that misapprehension exists, distinguished scholars should resist the temptation to abuse it’.
Very true, though on the same page, in the note referenced on this page (page 59 of the 30th Anniversary edition), Dawkins almost falls into his own trap, saving himself with one little sentence.
The text of the note to the main text is so incredibly incorrect that it is quite funny, given he does this on the very same page as his scolding on Hoyle.
In the note Dawkins for some reason wants to explain a theory of consciousness by Daniel Dennett. Dennett himself has tried to explain his ideas in several books. For reasons that remain unclear Dawkins wants to summarize Dennett’s work in this 2 page note.
Dawkins takes two technical ideas from the world of computers to illustrate his ideas: the concept of a virtual machine, and the ‘the distinction between serial and parallel processors’. Dawkins starts out with a completely incorrect explanation of what a virtual machine is. As an example of a virtual machine he mentions the Macintosh User Interface. The Mac is a great machine, but the Macintosh User Interface has very little to do with a virtual machine, and the connection with consciousness remains very unclear. For a correct description of virtual machines, Dawkins could have simply relied on theWikipedia article on virtual machines.
The story derails entirely when Dawkins turns to his description of ‘serial and parallel processors’. The piece is so totally incorrect that it does not make sense to highlight the individual errors here. Since Dawkins fails to see the distinction between processors and processes, he starts off wrong and makes things worse every sentence. And it’s not like this was rockets science at the time of writing. Parallel processing is known and applied in computing since our ownEdsger Dijkstra and others invented concepts like the semaphore and the indivisible instruction.
More linkages to Dennett’s work and that of his friend Douglas Hofstadter on page 59, where Dawkins discusses self-awareness and rejects ideas of self-awareness because
So can we conclude Dawkins has fallen into the trap of asserting a scholar’s distinction in one field implies authority in another?
As I said, almost. On page 280 Dawkins saves himself, on the edge, with this little remark:
‘The reader is advised to consult Dennett’s own account when it is published, rather than rely on my doubtless imperfect and impressionistic – maybe even embellished – one.’ How true.
I have never had such fun with academic footnotes.
The taxi driver took off like crazy, sliding through the snow. At every traffic light the same recipe: full throttle, tires spinning through the snow. On the highway took over a lorry on the right-hand side, while typing an SMS. Then he slid a cd in the stereo, and Aerosmith blasted through the car: Love In An Elevator, Smoking in the Back of the Yard (not sure if that is the song title), and other heavy rock music with explicit lyrics.
Yet, Finnish people are incredibly nice and helpful people. It’s terrible to return to our little overcrowded country with its less well-mannered people.
And of course: it is raining. While I just got so used to the freshness of dry frost and snow.
