More Geeky Goodness…

Folks,

Imagine a humanoid robot that was controlled not by a joy stick, punching keys, or limited to an onboard brain about as clever as a cockroach. Imagine if you could control it by simply moving your own body as you wish the robot to move. Through its mechanics, with its sensors, you could walk through fire to save an orphan, venture into the caldron of an active volcano, or work a mine on an asteroid. You might even chuck your Human form and map your motions into those of a crab to walk the deepest craters of our Luna. You might find it handy to be an Octopus to touch and taste the floor of the oceans of a Jovian moon.

Microsoft may have actually produced its most useful technology in Kinect, and with the help of hackers and roboticists, helped introduce something to Humanity that will be much more influential than their crappy software.

S

Hacking Kinect Into a Full Body Prosthesis

More Lyrical Doodling…

Folks,

More lyrical drivel from the digital desk drawer. This one actually does scan and time and again even rhymes. I hear mandolins and harmonica, beat up old guitars, a stand up bass, a drummer drunk with subtlety, and some old guy that can hardly sing backed by a small chorus of angels… but, I'll leave it to my friends actually possessing some talent with music to make such decisions. Then, I'll just sit back and be amazed that my thorny words got turned into some part of something like roses, something like music for us kids to dance to.

S

Anything, Anytime © Solomon, 2008/2011

Puzzle pieces in memory

Oh, they do speak to me

Yeah, I  have been shown that real clear

that you are a fine melody

a secret to be told just to me

Oh, and you sure ain’t so easy

and neither so am I

but you are easy to love

you are somebody to love

right here now and for every time

Anything, anytime

Let me tell you real nice

count our change and roll the dice

You got my credit on the line

I’ll watch your back if you watch mine

I am with you all of the time

You are sure ain’t noway real easy

Well, kid, neither am I

but you are easy to love

you’re so sure easy to love

not just today but all the time

Now, tell me all of your secrets

Do part the brilliant clouds

and, then please show me everything

about all what you think you know

all your mysteries and shadows

Anything, anytime

Let me tell you real nice

count our change and roll the dice

You got my credit on the line

I’ll watch your back if you watch mine

I am for you all the time

We got a good peace of heaven

and a thread through the clouds

We got each other, not much else

and we have been born to love 

born to love for all time always

Anything, anytime

Let me tell you real nice

count our change and roll the dice

You got my credit on the line

I’ll watch your back if you watch mine

I am with you all the time

Folks,


Something a bit off the charts, but a bit that I needed to share. This came from an blessed interchange with a lady that I have never met, will likely never meet in the flesh, but does pretty well get to my heart. Thus I try to speak to her own and my own heart. Here is my note to her, with a few emendations.


S


I spent a solid four decades as a stone drunk and true professional able to handle any substance thrown at me, or that I eagerly sought out. All the while, I functioned high and made a good living, living high.

All that came to halt about a decade ago. That had to happen along the path, and I'm actually grateful for that turn. I'm also grateful to notice a few other things.

There are folks more hard up than me. If you are inclined to pray, include Colleen, Sherri, Sonny, Bongo, Free, and my long suffering Mom in those heavenward offers. Hey, throw those offers any and everywhere! I am not a religious sort, but I have noticed that prayer does not hurt anything.

I also lately noticed that things take surprising turns in Human terms. Now and again, we meet a good heart who is a real friend. That is nourishment for the soul, and you know who I'm talking about.

Then there are these strange swirls in the tides in the stream. Nothin' much turns out the way that it seems to tend. I look over my shoulder and see the shadow of a millionaire. I look ahead and can see good reason for despair.

Whatever. I'm about to step into another puddle, maybe a pond, maybe an ocean… but if I make my connection, I know that I'll go toward good friends, and I do know how to swim.


With Love,


S

Things start thinking, and disappear…

Folks,


Some centuries ago, people were thinking about machines that might think. About sixty years ago, they started building prototypes. Vannevar Bush nicely spelled out the basic scheme. Then a few years later, Richard Feynman and a few other cats got thinking about building machines based on the principles that we observe in nature creating, well, us and everything else.


We seem to be on the cusp of this possibility becoming real.


S

Very Tiny Smart Things

Fine Notions…

Folks,

Here's a link to a geeky meditation on the astronomy of our local neighborhood.

Look to the Heavens!

S

Drums!

Folks,

Here it is. It is dirty and real. It is noisy and takes a good long while, as real good lovin' should. This rendition of our old fave is ripped to pieces on sacred skins stretched across drums. It is shouted from the horse throat of a loving maniac. A kid makes a noise like cathedral bells clanging, and a young old man weaves with silver out of the thin air. Some geek who should be playing trombone is tossing gobs of paisley thunder from his bass. Totally ridiculous stuff. This is MUSIC.

Good Lovin', with Pig and Big Drumz!

S

Grim?

Folks,


I was in a rather foul mood when I composed this ditty.


S

A Bough on the Burying Ground © Solomon 2003/2011

I can’t help you right now

I can’t show you the way

won’t worry ‘bout your troubles

if you stay out’a mine

I could tell you right now 

I’ll spell out the story

but that would worry both our dreams

just the way they make you cry

No rest for the wicked 

no rest for the brave

no rest but in death

play the pipes on the burying ground

throw a bough of ivy on the grave

I know where to find you

y’know where to find me too

we won’t worry ‘bout your troubles

stay well away from mine

No rest for the wicked

no rest for the brave

no rest but in death

play the pipes on the burying ground

throw a bough of roses on the grave