Got a slew of books from amazon (doing my part to fix the economy) but haven't had a chance to read any of them. Instead, I've been reading The Mists of Avalon, one of Heather's favorite books. It's strange, such a different story than The Once and Future King, one of my favorite books. Stuff waiting in the queue: My Ears are Bent, by Joseph Mitchell; Where Mathematics Comes From by George Lakoff and Rafael Nunez; some more Philip Roth, some Cormac McCarthy, and The Anatomy of Melancholy by Robert Burton. Also read Away Offshore, another Nat Philbrick book about Nantucket. As it turns out, my family only spent a few years on Nantucket, before moving to Martha's Vineyard, so I suppose I need to get a book on Martha's Vineyard instead.

Boys, it's been a long time since I updated this part. Rest assured I'm still reading, usually three or four books at once. Since the last update, I've read Nat Philbrick's In the Heart of the Sea, which caught my eye because my mother's family is still hanging around Nantucket. It was a pretty interesting tale, and fairly well told. I've getting sick of these mass audience books, though; I really need something with a bit more meat and historical depth to it. Now I need to read Moby-Dick again. I'm reading (slowly) Eric Durschmeid's The Weather Factor, which my Mom got me after I made a comment about how I thought Jared Diamond could have touched on how the weather affected history. The book itself is pretty cheesy, but covers some interesting events, like the Kamikaze that sank the Chinese fleet off the coast of Japan in 1281. Another book I just finished was The Nothing that Is: A Natural History of Zero, which, frankly, was really boring. I'd expected better. It's as though Robert Kaplan couldn't decide whether it was to be an accurate historical record, a playful philosophical treatise, an existentialist dirge, or a mathematical puzzle. The reader is left with the feeling that Kaplan doesn't really have a clue where zero came from, and didn't really want to tell us if he did. I finally got around to reading a Terry Pratchett book, The Color of Magic. I can see why people like him - he's nuts. Sort of like a Douglas Adams for the gaming/fantasy set. Lastly, I just finished Philip Roth's The Human Stain, which I thought was just amazing. Roth can really grab your attention and your sense of wonder. There were a few flaws in the book ("what happened to Delphine Roux?") but overall, highly recommended.

Just finished Nathaniel's Nutmeg, by Giles Milton, a sort of history of the Spice Wars and what scumbags the employees of the Dutch East India Company were. An interesting, if rather poorly edited, book. Worth a look. Probably would have made a much better full-length essay. As it was, the story was pretty good, though I was still left with some hesitancy regarding Nathaniel Courthope as the "hero" Milton makes him out to be. Maybe the connections between Courthope's untimely death defending the nutmeg isle of Run for the English and the subsequent surrender of New Amsterdam some decades later by the Dutch weren't made as clear as they could have been, or maybe I just wasn't paying close enough attention. I'm also reading How the Web Was Born, a history of the Web told from a decidedly non-American (and remarkably refreshing) perspective.

Re-read Here Be Dragons, for a dose of fantasy, a few weeks ago. Have been boning up on my computer history lately, with Michael Hiltzik's Dealers of Lightning: Xerox PARC and the Dawn of the Computer Age, which was fascinating (and which inspired parts of this article). Just finished up Howard Rheingold's Tools For Thought: The History and Future of Mind-Expanding Technology, which was very good, if a bit flaky. Probably the most thought-provoking of my recent reads, especially in light of my new-found status as property owner, was Hernando DeSoto's The Mystery of Capital: Why Capitalism Triumphs in the West and Fails Everywhere Else. DeSoto's thesis is that capitalism is only possible with a well-founded system of property law; that the West only arrived at such a system as it already has through trial and error and the adoption of the conventions of extra-legal property holders such as miners, homesteaders, and the like, and is subsequently not fully aware of its own systems; and that the Third World can achieve a rapid economic turnaround if it will adopt existing extra-legal property protection schemes as law, turning dead capital into live and reducing corruption, bureaucratic nonsense, and enfranchising billions of entrepreneurs. Got me to thinking about what it means to own our house, our business, my truck, and the like; whether similar schemes to enfranchise America's extra-legals (drug dealers, for example) would work; and other things. Also got me thinking about what it means to "own" a domain name given that there is no real property law in the Internet namespace, or what there is offers little to no protection against disenfranchisement. If some deep-pocket corporation decided it wanted jaundicedeye.com, there is precious little standing in the way of simply taking it from me. I can't imagine the lawyers will stand for that much longer, but it still chills me to think about, especially in light of DeSoto's charge that few in the West actually understand the import property law holds for capitalism.

Read Donna Tartt's Secret History over the holidays, as a break from the Mahabharata, and because it was one of the few books we forgot to pack, so it was handy. It was okay. Pure brain candy. I vastly preferred Joseph Mitchell's Up in the Old Hotel, which I read on the plane out to SF. Fantastic journalistic eye combined with a sense of when and how to tell a story so it moves beyond the commonplace and into a transcendent sort of history. I'm a sucker for Michael Crichton, too, I'm embarrassed to admit, and picked up a copy of Timeline in the airport in Atlanta for the plane (which was two hours late). Not a bad read; provided you can forgive the science (which is why I usually read Crichton in the first place, because he usually strives to be believeable).

I find myself trying to take care of small things. Paying bills. Washing dishes. Doing laundry. Tomorrow morning, I will mow the lawn and trim the hedges. I will cut down the snaking ivy that is entwined in the shutters on the south side of the den.

Heather is on her way back from picking up the cats, and I'm off to go get groceries. We were gone for almost a month, so there's nothing in the house to eat. From my vantage point in the kitchen, I can see that something new is blooming in the backyard, along with a few thousand weeds.

I'd just really like to get these images out of my head; the images of planes flying into buildings; the images of that idiot Bush fumbling for words in front of the Pentagon and asking for even more power than he has already; the images of bigotry and hatred and stubborn refusal to understand.

Driving south Thursday, I'd bite my knuckle every time something awful or touching or hateful or sad came on the radio. Yesterday, I had a huge bruise there and it was tender to the touch. Today, it seems to be fading. Maybe healing does come with time.

One of these days, maybe I'll get some time to deal with the grief over my aunt, who passed away last week. The most awful feeling is knowing that I'm very lucky compared to many. On top of it all, I sit here feeling guilt for the sadness, knowing that others' worlds have changed far more than mine in the past week.

Ah, well. I'll keep trying like a good bhikku, and spend my time caring for the little things. So much to say, so little sense in saying any of it just yet. Cut wood, carry water.

Oh, I thought it was terrorists, responding in part to poorly formulated and miserably implemented U. S. Middle Eastern policy. Turns out it was all those fairies, baby killers, feminazis, and liberals we've been harboring here in the States that brought God's anger upon us. Let's hope this finishes off Falwell and Robertson for good.

Itinerary:

• 6:45am: leave Orrington, Maine
• 11:10am: arrive, Boston Logan Airport to return rental car to Thrifty after picking up car from Hertz. Thrifty charged me $6/gal. for my gas. The guy in front of me at Hertz was driving to Orlando, the two guys behind me driving to Nashville and Minneapolis.
• 2:30pm: take I-81 from I-84 in Scranton, PA towards the south after seeing hundreds of American flags, highway maintenance signs reading "god bless america" and similar slogans
• 1:15am: arrive Raleigh, NC after nineteen hours on the road.

Home. And safe.

Heather and I are back from Web2001. Some random thoughts follow, to be subsequently followed by a more detailed post to [wd]. But for now, given that I've been in the air for more than ten hours, am suffering from jetlag, and am flying out to Maine (again) for a funeral tomorrow at noon, this will have to do for now.

Met several folks from the list, and had a wonderful discussion with Dawn about Julian Jaynes and the vagaries of a religious studies education. John Dowdell really does own a grey fedora.

Fray Day 5 was a blast. I only wish I'd had the presence of mind to talk to the people about how not all Maine stories are endless. My aunt Peg died late last week, after a long battle with breast cancer, having decided to call off chemo and end things on her own terms.

Met Jessamyn. Perhaps she'll come visit us (hint, hint) so we can chill out on the porch and have a discussion beyond "hey, you're Steve" and "hey, you're Jessamyn".

Apologies to Lance for taunting the wait staff at Absinthe by loudly crying out "that is not the vichysoisse".

Thanks to Shauna for the par-tay. It's always good to see Owen, Lance, Molly, and the gang.

Met the delightful Kate at lunch, and only wish I'd had more time to talk to Michael about hacking sendmail. I swear, I want to know more about what you're up to. It was just a hard week.

Wish I could have spent more time with Matt and Ev and Jason and Meg and Scott and Derek and Heather and Dori and Molly and Nick and Cam and Betty and Jeff and Leslie and everyone else.

People build little (and not so little) stone sculptures on the beach at Crissy Point. Excellent. Oh, and windburn and sunburn. And a great way to spend a Labor Day Monday.

Someday, I'll get to talk to Stewart Brand about the assignation of value and how impermanence lends a value that archival and longterm views do not. More than I did at the conference, I mean. Jazz, Basho, and the stone sculptures at Crissy Field.

Shin splints.

Met a friend of Jeremy's (who happened to be with Jessamyn) and we talked about CFD and Ex Number Five. Hi to Jeremy!

If you're looking for the demo from the DHTML class, give me a few days to test it before deploying it live and it'll be on the main hesketh.com site. Until then, here it is. Could be next week. Cut me some slack.

The Jug Shop rules. Maraschino liqueur is weird. Pear brandy is even weirder.

In-room broadband rocks.

Thanks to the forward-thinking people who set up Airport in the Online Lounge and the Press Lounge. Next year: sell 802.11b cards on the floor and make sure everyone has access from everywhere.

I'm donating the entirety of my tax "rebate" to the Electronic Frontier Foundation. I dare you to do the same. More later.

Just a reminder, kids. Unix time_t tops a billion this Saturday at 9:46:40 PM. Cherish this historic moment by running the command:

date +"%s"

over and over again until you see ten digits :)

Heather and I are in SF for Web2001. If you're in town, drop us a line and maybe we can get together. I know several folks from [wd] are here as well, so hopefully we'll be able to negotiate a meeting of the minds.

Went in town in AM Worked for A. Minnie PM. Packed to go away. NW wind.

Another day in the house. Cold about same. SE wind.

Stayed around house. Have a cold. SW wind.

Worked on telephone line. Went to Milbridge for Harl. NE wind.

Worked around home. Picked cranberries. Went with George pulling lobster traps. Up town tonight. NE wind.

Picked cranberries. Did chores around home. NW wind.

Took Colby & Adelaide to school. Went up to Thompson's Place. Father, Mother, Mr & Mrs. Rhodes, & OWL went to Machias. NW wind.

Worked around home. Took Colby out to blueberry land. NW wind.

Came home today with Colby, Adelaide & Affie. NW wind.

Rainstorm. Harvey out. Mrs. Bates & Edith went home tonight. Staying at Gussie's. SE wind.

Went to Lily Lake on picnic. Edith Bates, Dot & I. Another great day. NW wind.

Went to Crooked River on picnic. Mrs. H, Gussie, Dot & I. Had a great time. NW wind.

Wet day. Came to Wesley tonight. Went to dance. SE wind.

Went to Machias. Wrote to Thelma & to Dot W. Down to Lysten's tonight. SE rainstorm.

Worked around home. Got admission card from U of M. Got a letter from Dot. SW wind.

Finally got the power cord for my tape deck, only to find that one side (it's a dual) is stuck shut with a cassette inside. Oh, well. At least I got to listen to the Sex Pistols again. Other music in my life lately: Sigur Ros, Derek Trucks (thanks, Brant), a great mix from Jeremy (thanks, Jeremy, especially for that Shellac song) and some other old stuff I had on tape (Dinosaur, Jr.'s Bug, Screaming Trees, and so on).

More Whiskeytown. Gram Parsons. Old Steely Dan. New Radiohead. Coldplay. Lousy collection of Go-Betweens stuff without their best songs on it. Nothing yet sticking in my head. Some days, I wish I had a good static or white noise generator. Saw various histories of punk (May must have been the "history of punk on cable" month or something) and wanted to break everything. Unfortunately, all of my punk is on tape and vinyl, and I accidentally threw away the power cord to my tape deck when I moved, so I've been sitting here humming "Holidays in the Sun" and wishing I had a really loud electric guitar.

Godspeed, You Black Emperor!
Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven
Subtle and dynamic, symphonic and sophisticated, so many adjectives to choose from. Just listen, preferably in a dark room with surround sound.

The Asylum Street Spankers
Spanker Madness
There should really be more music written and performed by too-smart-for-their-own-good dopers with great bluegrass licks, jazz influences, and hearts full of beer. Fortunately, there is some. Now we just need for them to put out another eight billion albums to help drown out the Britneys and Christinas. The talented, twisted spawn of the Fugs, Tom Waits, Bessie Smith, and their ilk, the Spankers make it look easy. Kudos for Dennis for letting Derek and I know about the live show at the Brewery.

Doc Watson, The Carter Family, Gid Tanner and the Skillet Lickers
I've been listening to lots of old bluegrass standards lately, like Wildwood Flower, Deep River Blues, Soldier's Joy, Dark as a Dungeon and the like. It's pretty amazing to listen to Doc talk about playing Deep River Blues in the style of Merle Travis - how he had to practice for ten years before he could get the lead line on top of the flatpicked bass line. I don't feel so bad now.