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Camilla made another Anacrusis picture, this time of Valentino. How perfectly appropriate! If I had posted this four hours ago! Seriously, I like it and it’s once again a cool image that’s different from what I, um, imagined. That is a really good thing.

  1. Do you own enough shit?

    YES

    NO

  2. Of course you don’t. Get some more! This is easy, because of Capitalism.
  3. GOTO 1
  4. Uh oh, it’s time to move! You’d better pack all that up, drive it around, and carry it up stairs. But your fleshy man-body is weak! What will you do?
    • Hire professionals
    • Ask your friends for help, but pay them what you would pay professionals
    • Ask your friends for help, on Valentine’s Day, in eight-degree weather, and repay them with Mexican food that you didn’t even buy, your girlfriend did
  5. Wow, you’re kind of a bastard! But at least all your shit is moved now.
  6. Wait! You still have more shit to move! How did that happen? You’d better stay up until 3 am. You can move the rest tomorrow! I mean today!
  7. GOTO 4

Thanks to Maria’s parents Mike and Susie, Scott, DC and Beth. We owe you guys a hell of a lot more than those enchiladas.

I know everything about Portland because I have been here for a week

So I understand why people like me like Portland, and part of it is that it really wants you to like it. It wants that so bad. It got itself a giant bookstore and really good pizza, and it rounded the edges off all the public iconography. It combined low but steady pedestrian traffic with worthwhile public transportation. It cleaned up the litter and slathered itself in wifi! It put flowers on its manhole covers just for you.

And the only real negative I’ve got to answer that is that it seems a hell of a lot like bait? I suppose that’s habitual post-hipster paranoia, but seriously, I’m waiting for the catch to spring. Maybe it’s just that if you live here you forget what black people look like. This place is whiter than a snow leopard eating ice cream off my butt.

So this is the room into which we checked, late Monday night.

The room is small.

And this is the room we were in three hours later.

The room is big!

So are the chairs!

So my advice is, always complain about the air conditioning.

These images brought to you by my new wide-angle lens, which is the second-sexiest thing I own, second only to my new Bose Wave WHY DO I KEEP BUYING SHIT SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE ME STOP

Humans! I seem to remember that some of you live in Portland? Maria, the Revolution and I are here too! Until Saturday! Maria is attending a conference for people who know everything, and I am sitting in a hotel room working. Later? I may go to a coffee shop.

Anyway, we should get lunch, or you should at least recommend things to try. Unless you don’t care about us! Dick.

Remember my list of potential destinations? The least likely of them has become the best choice, and in fact the one I’m making: on March 3rd I’m flying to London, to live with Holly, Kevan and Catriona until Roz arrives in August to take their spare room for fall term. I’ve worked out the tax-related bits and I have my boss’s approval to keep working for Indelible on Greenwich time. I have purchased plane tickets and an iPod. This trajectory does not reverse.

The whole thing fell into place with a suspicious ease, as if we had assembled a Lego castle merely by shaking the bucket, but I am not looking askance. Five and a half years ago I was writing here about how I had to turn down my semester abroad to keep my Comp Sci degree; now that degree is making it possible to go after all, with people I like, and to hang out with my mom and sister and Maria there. Real life seems to have a plot.

I’m going to London!

Responses to my last post, saved from the feed:

Ben: “All this copyright nonsense gets worse, eventually spiralling into ‘The War on Information’.”

Josh: “Assuming that your parents are baby boomers, your parents’ generation were unique, the only generation in history to have been able to consume without responsibility. Unfortunately, it’s unlikely that any future generation will have that opportunity.”

Kevan: “I’m not sure how bad a thing it necessarily is, but the next generation being able to dig through their parents’ online diaries and data shadows is going to be quite big and strange. Reading unguarded entries about what their parents really thought of you when you were young, stocking up on ‘if you did this when you were my age, why can’t I do it now?’ ammunition, and being able to stalk some of your crushes or bullying-targets all the way back to birth.”

Catherine: “Also, the increasing dichotomy between rural and urban cultures. People from, say, Seattle can be a mite uncomfortable in rural Georgia. People from, say, Atlanta are often a mite uncomfortable in rural Georgia.”

All thoughtful, all excellent. Catherine’s response is closest to my own worries: that we will allocate greater bandwidth to strident, divisive, polemical speech than to speech that crosses boundaries. I’m not arguing for censorship of radicalism here–my own brand of radicalism is specifically anti-censorship–but warning against the rapid propagation of our trust networks through people who will tell us only what we want to hear. When you can find a thousand people who agree with you more easily than you can find one dissenter, you are on the road to becoming an instrument.

Exhibit One: the semiotic gutting of phrases like “since 9/11”

I think it’s widely accepted that my parents’ generation, or at least quite a lot of them, participated in a sexual and chemical revolution that they enjoyed at the time without foreseeing its consequences–STDs, a wasteful drug war, the embourgeoisment of all their good music, and a lot of boring retrospective movies. Hideous design themes. The backswing of the Eighties. I could go on.

Not that there weren’t benefits, of course, and I’m glad I was born after they became widespread. I think I’m well-suited for my own generation’s information revolution. But is any revolution on this scale without cost? What are we not foreseeing?