This is a Flickr badge showing public photos from GatheringZero. Make you own badge here.
.date-header { margin:1.5em 0 .5em; color:#579; } .post { margin:.5em 0 1.5em; border-bottom:1px dotted #357; padding-bottom:1.5em; } .post-title { margin:.25em 0 0; padding:0 0 4px; font-size:140%; line-height:1.4em; color:#fc6; } .post-title a { text-decoration:none; color:#fc6; } .post-title a:hover { color:#fff; } .post p { margin:0 0 .75em; line-height:1.6em; } p.post-footer { margin:-.25em 0 0; color:#357; } .post-footer em, .comment-link { font:78%/1.4em "Trebuchet MS",Trebuchet,Arial,Verdana,Sans-serif; text-transform:uppercase; letter-spacing:.1em; } .post-footer em { font-style:normal; color:#579; margin-right:.6em; } .comment-link { margin-left:.6em; } .post img { padding:4px; border:1px solid #222; } .post blockquote { margin:1em 20px; } .post blockquote p { margin:.75em 0; } /* Comments ----------------------------------------------- */ #comments h4 { margin:1em 0; font:bold 78%/1.6em "Trebuchet MS",Trebuchet,Arial,Verdana,Sans-serif; text-transform:uppercase; letter-spacing:.2em; color:#579; } #comments h4 strong { font-size:130%; } #comments-block { margin:1em 0 1.5em; line-height:1.6em; } #comments-block dt { margin:.5em 0; } #comments-block dd { margin:.25em 0 0; } #comments-block dd.comment-timestamp { margin:-.25em 0 2em; font:78%/1.4em "Trebuchet MS",Trebuchet,Arial,Verdana,Sans-serif; text-transform:uppercase; letter-spacing:.1em; } #comments-block dd p { margin:0 0 .75em; } .deleted-comment { font-style:italic; color:gray; } /* Sidebar Content ----------------------------------------------- */ .sidebar-title { color:#579; } #sidebar ul { margin:0 0 1.5em; padding:0 0 1.5em; border-bottom:1px dotted #357; list-style:none; } #sidebar li { margin:0; padding:0 0 .25em 15px; text-indent:-15px; line-height:1.5em; } #sidebar p { line-height:1.5em; } /* Profile ----------------------------------------------- */ #profile-container { margin:0 0 1.5em; border-bottom:1px dotted #357; padding-bottom:1.5em; } .profile-datablock { margin:.5em 0 .5em; } .profile-img { display:inline; } .profile-img img { float:left; padding:4px; border:1px solid #357; margin:0 8px 3px 0; } .profile-data { margin:0; font:bold 78%/1.6em "Trebuchet MS",Trebuchet,Arial,Verdana,Sans-serif; text-transform:uppercase; letter-spacing:.1em; } .profile-data strong { display:none; } .profile-textblock { margin:0 0 .5em; } .profile-link { margin:0; font:78%/1.4em "Trebuchet MS",Trebuchet,Arial,Verdana,Sans-serif; text-transform:uppercase; letter-spacing:.1em; } /* Footer ----------------------------------------------- */ #footer { width:660px; clear:both; margin:0 auto; } #footer hr { display:none; } #footer p { margin:0; padding-top:15px; font:78%/1.6em "Trebuchet MS",Trebuchet,Verdana,Sans-serif; text-transform:uppercase; letter-spacing:.1em; }

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

best place for us

best place for us
i just ordered an iphone4 from this company
: <emarket4you.com>
best price and fast ship / i like it very much
take a look , sure you will like it
thousands of products .
save more than 35%!

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Google A.I.

" Google is Turing's cathedral, awaiting its soul. We hope. In the
words of an unusually perceptive friend: "When I was there, just
before the IPO, I thought the coziness to be almost overwhelming.
Happy Golden Retrievers running in slow motion through water
sprinklers on the lawn. People waving and smiling, toys everywhere. I
immediately suspected that unimaginable evil was happening somewhere
in the dark corners. If the devil would come to earth, what place
would be better to hide?"

For 30 years I have been wondering, what indication of its existence
might we expect from a true AI? Certainly not any explicit revelation,
which might spark a movement to pull the plug. Anomalous accumulation
or creation of wealth might be a sign, or an unquenchable thirst for
raw information, storage space, and processing cycles, or a concerted
attempt to secure an uninterrupted, autonomous power supply. But the
real sign, I suspect, would be a circle of cheerful, contented,
intellectually and physically well-nourished people surrounding the
AI. There wouldn't be any need for True Believers, or the downloading
of human brains or anything sinister like that: just a gradual,
gentle, pervasive and mutually beneficial contact between us and a
growing something else. This remains a non-testable hypothesis, for
now. The best description comes from science fiction writer Simon

"When our machines overtook us, too complex and efficient for us to
control, they did it so fast and so smoothly and so usefully, only a
fool or a prophet would have dared complain."

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Reinventing Radio: On Phonetags...

But it's behind the scenes that I think the most substantial value could be created. We're getting in incredible metadata on music that we simply didn't have before - metadata and descriptive (emotive!) keywords that we can analyse and chop up and use as the basis for all kinds of other navigational systems. This is metadata that is often sorely lacking and could help us enormously in the future.


Saturday, April 30, 2005


This is a test post from flickr, a fancy photo sharing thing.

vent open, spleen everywhere

So. This is where I shall vent.
For there is venting to be done, and better here than with a pointed stick.

Sadly, though, today has been nark-free.
Perhaps not so sadly.

Tuesday, May 18, 2004


In strode a man in the shape of a man, holding a hat shaped hat. I’d seen him a dozen times before, and laughed a dozen more at his rancorous flirtations with the ageing behemoth behind the counter. He’d held a fascination for me since the first time I walked into the Nite Owl, and he was the reason I walked an extra block for my 4am cup of coffee.

There aren’t many things I’ll walk an extra block for, but his glacial smile was one of them. It spread slowly across his face, like a force of nature, like it knew it could take its time getting there, like it knew it’d do its job before the dawn broke, before the day was done. His smile brushed away the mountainous strains of my life, swept them aside and belittled them for the tiny passions of insomnia I knew they were. He had this utterly fuckilicious air about him, calculated and casual at the same time, like he was studiously aloof. And god did it work for me. The way he strode in and threw his scarf into the corner of the booth opposite mine – no matter where I sat his was always opposite mine. The way he unbuttoned his coat with one downward sweep of his hand, the way his smile never even cracked a glimmer on the face of the waitress. She had a kind word for everyone but him, everyone else was love, or dear, but he was sir. No respect for him though, maybe he’d corrupted her daughter. I liked to think so.

I’d imagine what I’d do if he was brought into the hospital, or if he came in looking for me, or for a friend who was ill. I’d wonder whether our complicit acquaintance was specific to a place, or something we could share anywhere. When I’m walking home in the early hours of the morning I usually cross to the other side of the street if I see a man walking towards me, but somehow he didn’t frighten me. I still get chills whenever I see a figure stumble towards me in the darkness; they used to be feelings of fear, but now there’s the faintest frisson of excitement, of expectation. I wondered if he knew of the subtle electric fire that for his sake played within me.

I knew he’d noticed me before, we shared smiles at the entrance of the Nite Owl, smiles of silent complicity in the insane ramblings and cosmic vibrations of the night. We both knew what it was like to take our minds of the hook for a while and let life carry us along. Why else would we frequent the same coffee house with its demonic staff and coffee that was water dressed in brown. I’d always wanted to bump into him as I walked to the Owl, so I could suggest we walked somewhere else, for a late night slice of pie, but he always got there after me, and he always left first.

He was part of my ritual for avoiding sleep, a case study of gesture and motion. His hands were always active, holding his tea with one, holding it for an age before he took his first sip. Searching frantically with the other for a lighter he’d always misplaced. Or using both to roll up another fag once he’d emptied his tin. I considered taking up smoking so I could bum one from the guy, but I didn’t just want to talk to him, I wanted to loom in his life, as he ploughed into mine.

Tuesday, May 11, 2004

It's time to start over here once more, and, well, sloe gin fizz works mighty fine when you drink it by the pitcher and not by the glass.

And a pitcher to go.

Thursday, April 22, 2004

Where's my G-Mail then?

Saturday, July 19, 2003

Ananova - Purple polar bear brings in the crowds

ruth says she saw this purple polar bear on News24. She hadn't slept for a while so I reckon tis a hoax and milady milwig was just hallucinating....

Amazon.co.uk: Medal of Honor: Allied Assault

Gilmore: I was ejected from a plane for wearing "Suspected Terrorist" badge

Monday, June 30, 2003

... he slowly removed a shred of tobacco from his lower lip ...

Monday, May 19, 2003

Diversification is the key

So, um, and, as always, yeah.

I now have a LiveJournal, which, as it's name suggests, will be more of a journal than this here blog.
I've also found somewhere that'll host pics & music for free, so there'll be all sorts of fun stuff here from now on too, but when i put stuff on there i'll mention it hither or thither.

So. Much confusion. Would much rather have a LiveJournal with pics & music, but that costs moolah, and i'm abhorrently poor. But, for the moment, thrice me!