When to this place I’ve come only by chance,

Must feel humble to be a blessed soul,

Fortunate enough to be in view of your glance,

There is no road map, are no directions,

There is no meeting place, not "a" time to be present...

Where will I go…?

When there is no other place I can express myself best,

No other place I find so much comfort and ease,

When you can read my mind even though I’m alone,

When "where will I go?" means so much more...

Oh tell me; where else will I go?

When just your voice over the phone brings me warmth and reassurance,

Where the depth of your dreams raise the quotient of love as I know it...

To know, to feel, to understand are mere words,

When you don’t need to say it all, to bare your soul...

So you see; where else will I go?

Each day we yearn to be cared for, needy to be blessed,

To feel wanted and loved, by those we love and want...

Each day we pray for our near and dear ones,

Pray for everything we have and all that we desire…

Know that you are now most certainly in my thoughts, my heart; part of my prayer…

As precious this place is, I wish to move on…

To follow you in a mind space, to attempt to learn more,

Where the future excites my mind to grow…

When the present pleases my soul so,

Each time you want to hear, be sure I’ll be saying…

Where will I go…?

Oh tell me; where else will I go?

Ode to Target
by Kat

O Target, how I love thee.
Red and white, Candy Stripes
Discounted prices from soap to black t's.
I can spend hours in there without a gripe

I try to go, list in hand
But I'm mesmerized by the "On Sale " stand
Do I really need 75% off of ceramic bows
Of course you do, my mind does scold.

Snobby people pretend not to go
But I see them, hats on, disguised, but I know
Rich or poor, bougie or cheap
O Target how I love thee, haha... aren't I mad deep?

I know, I know... the next Shakespeare. SIKE!

I feel your deep breath tickling my neck

this intrigues me slightly swaying my mind.

Moments like these are truly beautiful

Our heads resting on each others breast as the drumming feeds our ears

Certainly this perfection must end

As many minds alike agree

And that drags on me like shackles from the wrist and ankles.

Our lips tell the best story

Entwining and taking on the life of their own

Enchanting us gracefully.

Just to let you know,

This moment and many others will stay with me -

creating the basis of the rest of me life.

"Being silent means more than just holding your tongue. It means listening for the softest, most subtle sound of all-the sound of the soul."

I don't even want to read any more right now; just sit with those words for a while....

It is with great sadness I write this blog today. I finally got up enough courage to write about my grandfather's passing. He died on this past Saturday, July 5th 2008. I was not notified by family until Sunday morning.

As my grandfather took his routine walk around the water in Alameda on the pedestrian trail, an idiot drove off the street, hit him, and then fleed the scene. Read below:

http://www.insidebayarea.com/news/ci_9808872?source=rss

My Papa was a good man although not perfect he made my life as a child damn near perfect and this alone I will love him throughout eternity.  He introduced me to the Oakland Raiders. He was a diehard member of the Raider Nation which was his extended family. He would meet with them in the off season. As I got older and finished college at UC Davis, he would read the Oakland Tribune daily and clip out articles and post them on the refrigerator for me to read.

Although I thought it was silly at the time that he would clip out articles about people at Davis even though I did not know them, his thoughtfulness was exceedingly genuine and I will never forget all of the gifts and love he showed.

The smell of hot sauce and pepper sprinkled upon every tv trayed dinner while watching the 6 o'clock news emblazes in my nasal memories. The thought brings water to my eyes.

During the games he would drink a beer, grandma would have Kahlua and creme, and I would have milk with ice in a glass, shaken not stirred. Grandpa Joe and Uncle Joe would scream and hoot like cowboys and indians watching the football games. The memories are innumerable.

He was 5% fire and 95% teddy bear.

He brought Cape Verdean recipes: Jagacida, gufong, and so on... He brought Dancerella, "gotcha" whiskers, heartfelt Santa Claus laughs, and a big heart that will live with me forever.

Thank you Papa,

Mila

You wake my sluggish neurons

and you taste real good. :P

I can drink it at home, in my car, at a coffee shop, at a friend's, en route to anywhere.

Ahhh.  I enjoy coffee in the morning but have given over to some afternoon java delight.  Decaf.  Naturally decaffeinated, thank you very much. 

I like my coffee strong but not overly muscular, with cream and preferably, with dessert and a friend.

"Is there a number on your phone that you can call when you are in the worst time of your life, say, maybe when you are thinking of ending it youself?" "Is there a person who knows what you are, your dreams and aspirations and can predict your thoughts and actions?" "Is there a person who challenges your principles and ideals not because he wants to have fun arguing or engage in some intellectual masturbation but is concerned that you might be doing something wrong?"

"Do you have any friends who are not continuous partial?"

I first came across the the adjective "continuous partial" in Robert Scoble's blog about breathing less while emailing and twittering. I fell in love with it immediately. It perfectly described many concepts that were floating around in my mind at that time. Linda Stone, the person who coined the term, uses it to describe attention and relationships. I now use it to describe knowledge as well. Continuous partial knowledge - knowledge which fails to go in-depth. I will save the details for another post. I liked the term so much that it has now become part of my vocabulary and I use it quite frequently!

I don't read philosophy or management. In fact, I don't read pretty much anything except textbook science. (I will save my crazy theory on reading only textbooks for another post.) All the philosophy and management that I pout are reflections during travel. When I come back to my computer, I put down my thoughts in words as either a blog or enter them into my log book. And I give it a title and the tile is used to refer to the idea. For example, "microcosm theory" refers to my idea on the loss of individuality in large companies and how it affects policies, "too many eggs" refers to my economic theory and so on and so forth.

Sometimes, I have found that my ideas already have formal names in philosophy and management. Once I find them, I tend to use the formal terms rather than my cooked up inventions. I would love to quote a few examples but I have no recollections of how I refered to my ideas before I actually found out that they are referred to as "Objectivism" and "Determinism".

I agree. Jargon is intimidating. Just imagine if I was at a lunch table and I suddenly used the term "continuous partial" in the conversation! People might be offended outright. But then, I sometimes wonder that if my words really meant anything to the people at the table, they would ask me to explain the jargon. And in reply, I might either decide to explain the idea or ask folks to google it out or locate it in my blog. I guess it makes sense to do the former when an understanding of the term is necessary for the conversation to proceed.

Jargon saves time. Once a jargon is understood, you spend a fraction of the time to transmit an idea. I was recently interviewed by a person at work who was interested in finding out what motivates folks. Instead of a long rant, I sent her a list of links to my blog posts. Why waste time when you have already  spent enough on expressing your ideas? Similarly, why waste time explaining an idea when a term for it has already been invented? When one word would do, why waste energy and time on a hundred?

Well, I leave it to my readers to add, subtract, multiply or divide my thoughts on jargon. Stay tuned for my posts on "continuous partial knowledge", "conditioning by books" and "random self mutating premise generators".

]]> http://azione.wordpress.com/?p=39 Sat, 28 Jun 2008 12:42:41 +0000 azione http://azione.wordpress.com/?p=39 Il governo è sceso prepotentemente in campo e ha offerto al popolo dei salariati e dei pensionati la sua ricetta salvifica: la Carta dei poveri, la 'Poor-Card' per dirla in inglese. Un'iniziativa moderna e non una riedizione della tessera annonaria, quella in uso durante la seconda guerra mondiale onde ottenere i beni di prima necessità. È la dimostrazione che a Palazzo Chigi si è insediata non un accolita di egoisti intenti a salvaguardare i propri interessi personali bensì una confraternita di benefattori. Buoni, generosi, compassionevoli dice qualcuno, Non voltano il capo dall'altra parte quando incontrano un povero pensionato o un povero metalmeccanico. Anzi pensano di rifornirlo con un sonante Euro. È il privilegio che per ora avranno solo i poveracci con le pensioni al minimo: con la nuova carta avranno, infatti, la disponibilità assoluta di un Euro al giorno. Certo non si potranno permettere spese pazze ma volete mettere la gioia di poter disporre di una carta di credito sia pur minima? Sarà un modo per odorare il profumo del benessere. Giornali e televisioni hanno raccontato che è tutto merito di Tremonti travestito da Robin Hood. Era, quest'ultimo, il principe dei ladri che distribuiva il bottino ai poveri. Così il ministro del Tesoro avrebbe tartassato, ridotto alla miseria, addirittura petrolieri e banchieri. Certo non deve aver ricavato molti introiti se si è trovato tra le mani solo la possibilità di distribuire un Euro al giorno e solo a una piccola parte di pensionati in attesa.

Fonte: http://www.unita.it/view.asp?IDcontent=76494

by Jack, 3rd Grade

I have a creed, non-existent yet powerful and diligent in virtual reality.

solitary seat and the solitude of that autumned withered tree,

the weeping hands collect those dry-brittled leaves,

empowerment and impeachment of this subconcious mind

my life has derailed in this surreal phase,

my inner eye can see no exit or the entrance

a trapped soul inside a herniated cage,

my nerves are squeezed and inflamed

a legacy is dumped under those dark ugly secrets

this is an ode to the dual life-

Once upon a time there was a prostitute.

the ironic contradiction and the swollen eyes,

the weeping mouth says no word,

I am a sinner without a sin.

Riceviamo e volentieri pubblichiamo...

Ode al Merlot

(di Fabio Franzin - Nel dialetto Veneto-Trevigiano della sinistra Piave)

No’l’é un vin da sìori, el Merlot,
ma da mensa, sincero, e popoeàre.
Par questo ‘l me piase pì de altri.

L’à ‘l coeór del tenporal ‘a só ùa,
grani fissi e lustri el grasp, come
un rosario frugà, sbecotà, qua e là

dai merli, cussì goeósi de baéte
e preghiere, de fàvoe. E pròpio
come te ‘na fàvoea ve cate qua

tuti sentàdhi ‘torno ‘a tòea dea casa
vècia (quea persa tel Paeù, in mèdho
aa campagna, persa drento un sgranf

dea mé memoria): tì, bisnòna Irma,
là, co‘ un got de merlot slongàrte
‘a menèstra; e tì, nòno ‘Tilio, poénta

tociàdha tea scudheéta de vin prima
dei radici; barba Lilo, po’, el pòro
senpio dea faméjia: spacàr un cubo

de jazh co’l martèl, in cortìo, e co’
na onbra de chel vin farse in casa
‘a granatina, slongàrme el cuciarìn

co’ cheàltri no’ se incordhéa: “’ssàja,
dài, che ‘l vin fa sangue”, mì un bòcia
convinto che l’udhór vero del mondo

fusse quel dea tèra e de l’erba, o quel
garbo de chel vin viòea. Ve intìve, e
intànt che ve saeùdhe se za smarìdhi,

cari ultimi atóri de ‘na vita che savéa
‘ncora de cort e piòva, de sudhór e cai,
de siénzhio. Ve saeùdhe, co’ste paròe

vèce che toce anca mì tel merlot, te
‘sto vin scuro de operai e murèri, da
fadhìga e formàjo, pan e mortadhèa.

Ode al Merlot

Non è proprio un vino nobile, il Merlot, / ma da mense, sincero e popolare. / Perciò mi piace più di altri. // Ha la tinta del temporale la sua uva, / grani fitti e lucenti il grappolo, come / il rosario consunto di un devoto, beccolato, qua e là // dai merli, così golosi di bacche / e preghiere, di fiabe. E proprio / come dentro una fiaba vi ritrovo tutti qui / seduti attorno al tavolo della casa / vecchia (quella persa in fondo ai Palù, in mezzo / ai campi, persa dentro un crampo / della mia memoria): tu, bisnonna Irma, / lì, con un bicchiere di merlot allungarti / la minestra; e tu, nonno Attilio, polenta / intinta nella chicchera di vino prima / del radicchio; lo zio Lillo, poi, il povero / tardo della famiglia: frantumare un blocco // di ghiaccio col martello, in cortile, e con / un bicchiere di quel vino farsi in casa / la granatina, allungarmi il cucchiaino // quando gli altri non vedevano: “assaggia, / dài che il vino fa sangue”, io un bambino / convinto che l’odore vero del mondo // fosse quello della terra e dell’erba, o quello / aspro di quel vino violaceo. Vi scorgo, e / mentre vi faccio ciao siete già sbiaditi, // cari ultimi attori di una vita che sapeva ancora di pioggia e letamai, di sudore e calli, / di silenzi. Vi saluto, con queste parole // antiche che intingo anch’io nel merlot, in / questo vino scuro di operai e muratori, compagno di / fatiche e formaggio, di pane e mortadella.

NOTE BIO-BIBLIOGRAFICHE

Fabio Franzin è nato nel 1963 a Milano. Vive a Motta di Livenza, in provincia di Treviso. Ha pubblicato le seguenti raccolte poetiche: “EL COEOR DEE PAROE” scritto nel dialetto dell’Opitergino-Mottense, con la prefazione di Achille Serrao; Zone, 2000; nel 2005, sempre in dialetto “CANZÓN DAA PROVENZA (e altre trazhe d’amór)” (premio “Edda Squassabia 2004) Fondazione Corrente, Milano; ancora nel 2005, “IL GROVIGLIO DELLE VIRGOLE” premio “Sandro Penna 2004 sezione inedito” con introduzione di Elio Pecora, Stamperia dell’arancio; nel 2006; in dialetto “PARE (padre)”, con introduzione di Bepi de Marzi, Helvetia; nel 2007 “MUS.CIO E ROE (Muschio e spine)”, Le voci della luna, con introduzione di Edoardo Zuccato, “Premio S. Pellegrino Terme”, “Superpremio Insula Romana”; e, in E-book, “ENTITÀ” (Biagio Cepollaro E-dizioni), 2007. Una sua breve silloge: “Favole naturali (dalle colline al mare)” è uscita in “L’arcana scrittura dell’acqua”, Lineadaria, 2006; è presente, con cinque testi, nella “Seconda antologia del premio “Giuseppe Piccoli”, a cura di Paolo Campoccia, con nota di Stefano Verdino, Magenes, 2006. Per la narrativa: “LA’, DOVE C’ERA L’ERBA”, testo finalista al premio “Italo Calvino 2003, Filca Cisl. Il racconto “Lettera ai prati” è presente nel volume “IL VENETO DEL FUTURO. Sogni e visioni. Dieci racconti”, edizioni Marsilio-Corriere Veneto, 2005. Sue poesie sono apparse in numerose riviste e antologie e sono state tradotte e pubblicate in inglese, cinese, tedesco e sloveno. Ha partecipato a rassegne poetiche in Italia e all’estero.

MOTTA DI LIVENZA (TREVISO) - fabiofranzin@libero.it

- download -

Why?

Well, it's because the ode beta is, from today, being shut down.

After a strategic re-think we have been asked to build a bigger and better version that can take full advantage of the Pearson global network. But to do that ode development as a brand/blog/beta platform has to be stopped.

This means goodbye to ode as you know it. So I guess all that's left is some thank yous.

• Thanks to all our beta users and 3^rd party content and platform partners for your support, energy, feedback and encouragement.
• Thanks to all the bright and passionate folks we have met over the last year or so: you have opened our minds to any number of exciting challenges and ideas.
• Thanks to Eylan Ezekiel for being first to find us.
• Thanks to switched on people like Mark Berthelemy, Ewan Mackintosh, David Hicks, John Davitt , Dr Martyn Farrows and Ian Usher to name but a few for noticing us. People like them are true 21st century educators - it was a thrilling moment to come into the office to find we'd popped up on their radar. We always took it as the highest compliment. Like us they are people who have stepped up above the parapet and said: there are better ways to deliver technology to the modern student. They don't accept mediocrity and they don't expect it to be easy. But they do all share one common belief: positivity about the future of technology in education. And for that, we salute them.
• Thanks to Jon Hicks for his tree.
• Thanks to those people who took the time to talk to us at BETT, at conferences, at Teachmeet and most importantly in schools and colleges.
• But most of all thanks to the team who have worked mightily hard on this project and had fun doing it. You can't ask for more than that.

So what's next?

ode as a brand, as a singular idea, is over. We have learned an enormous amount about how schools are entering the web 2.0 space.

To that end the team will now concentrate on building the new platform. This blog will re-emerge soon enough, probably with a different name but it'll be the same old esoteric ramblings as before.

I hope anyone who followed us will step back into the conversation when I re-start it later this year - bigger, bolder and more "elearningy" than before.

Love,

The ode team

"It's not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or when the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worth cause; who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at the worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat."

Theodore Roosevelt

Spargeţi oglinzile! Orice obiect cu feţe reflectorizante este interzis.

În timpul procesului de curăţare mila pentru suprafeţe fine este, de asemenea, interzisă. Oricum Totul trebuie să dispară.

Pereţii se decojesc, podelele sunt unsuroase, ferestrele s-au spart, praful ţine loc de aer, tavanul cade pe bucăţi, baile defulează.  Asta nu e loc de locuit!

Să spargem tot, să facem bucăţi, să ardem, să nimicim! Ciocane, barosul, macarale cu greutăţi: orice mijloc de distrugere imediată este folositor.

Puteţi să loviţi, să aruncaţi, să faceţi praf orice obiect abject din această căsă. Cărămizile în sine sunt impregnate cu putoare. Distruge-ţi, deci!

Să nu rămână urmă de Tot! Incendiaţi rămăşiţele şi spulberaţi cu jet de aer praful de pe urmă!

Un timp nimic nu se va planta, nimic nu va creşte pe acest teren.

Ingrădiţi şi părăsiţi locul la terminarea lucrării de curăţare.

Privea cu ochii mari, lipsită de orice cuvânt ca reacţie. Şeful de echipă al firmei angajate era uimitor: nu auzise de nici un serviciu de demolări care să îşî facă treaba atât de eficent. Iar omul ăsta era născut pentru aşa ceva! Da, cu siguranţă că e un predestinat. Dintr-o dată şi l-a imaginat îmbrăcat în uniformă de căpitan nazist, drept în poziţie, dictând în stînga, dreapta, sus şi jos acţiunile demolării. Pe măsură ce îşi muta pivirea scârbită de jur împrejur emitea dictatorial ordinele de anihilare. Cât talent… Era fantastic de priceput! Nu îi trebuia mai mult de 0.0000000000001 secunde pentru a înţelege ce paşi trebuiau să urmeze în procesul desfiinţării a ceea ce azi sfârşea să mai fie CASA.  

- Vreau să... vreau la sfârşit să dăm foc. Ştiţi, să ardem tot ce rămâne şi nu putem strânge.

- Clienţii au ocazia să îşi exprime dorinţele în privinţa evacuării la semnarea contractului. ... Ideea pirotehnică era prevăzută oricum pentru acest caz. Mirosul personal nu pare să poată fi îndepărtat cu substanţe obişnuite. Vom incinera reziduurile.

*

- Dacă promiteţi să vă ţineţi gura tot drumul... vă putem lua cu maşina până în oraş. Urcaţi!

that nurtured HIS land.

you shared your hand,

that protected HIS men.

St. Joseph, with your love so pure,

Give HIS men a cure.

with your faith so sure,

Make HIS men endure.

we remembered his life,

Virgin Mary as his wife.

Mary's pain were like stabbing knives,

but continued living their virtuous life.

sweat of patience,

axe of prudence,

nails of joy,

hammer of hope,

saw of charity,

lumber of purity,

measure of humility.

he built his home with love,

with Virgin Mary at his side,

shaped and molded Jesus,

Our Lord, our refuge and our guide.

Holy Spirit's voice, He obeyed,

God the Father was never dismayed.

selfless love He gave.

for HIS men to emulate.

so in memory of his loving passion,

we offer our devotion,

St. Joseph,

accept our humble supplication.

The Libertines “What a waster”. Så skitig, så trasig. Så otäckt bra.

Här och nu i retrospektiv.
En ännu otäckare bra låt och förutsägelse(?) av Petes eget oblida öde.

Ladda hem den för bästa ljud och höj volymen.

Eller hör den halvdant:

http://www.youtube.com/v/aqUoPw1nOkc&hl=en”></param><embed

Och i min egen synonymordbok är Pete Doherty, iklädd en hatt på sne, alltid en synonym till ordet briljant. ]]> http://appledome.wordpress.com/?p=63 Tue, 10 Jun 2008 22:51:48 +0000 appledome http://appledome.wordpress.com/?p=63 Jag blir så glad av att se och höra hur andra har det bra och blir "lyckliga" eller "glada". Det måste vara något genetiskt, men även om jag må vara inne i någon sorts depression så får jag en viss glädje av andra människors lyckade försök i livet. 

Det ger mig hopp om bättre tider.

Jag balanserar mellan att vara den köpgalna principlösa människan och den mer lugna rationella människan. Jag vet inte vad som styr dem båda men det krävs en hel del energi för att inte låta mig falla in i den mer orationella personligheten. I och för sig känns det som om större delen av dagens samhälle befinner sig i just det facket och att jag igentligen också bör försöka placeras där. 

Hur mycket jag än saknar känslan av att passa in så klarar jag heller inte av känslan av att jag spelar något jag inte är, det skulle förolämpa min hela existens. 

Jag vill kunna vara orginell i en värld som tar mer intresse i att vara mainstream i alla dess former.. Det svåra är dock att verkligen vara kreativ, allt som jag kommer på är igentligen en annan version av en "sak" som jag sett tidigare. Jag borde istället finna ett konkret problem och därefter konstruera en bra lösning.

För en gång skull blåser vinden igen, jag har saknat detta oförutsägbara, något utanför det som alltid sker.

Efter en vis tid för att fundera och klara upp olika fakta som vem jag är som person? och vad jag vill med livet? Så står jag fortfarande handfallen med frågan om hur bygger jag upp ett liv som jag kan känna mig nöjd med? 

Jag har en enorm drivkraft att påverka min livssituation i olika val som kan tas. Frågan kvarstår dock om vad jag vill spendera min tid med. Vart börjar man? En stabil ekonomi? Karriär? 

Det som alltid återkommer vid dessa tankeställningar är inre frid. Tanken på att jag inte bryr mig om att jag inte har den saken eller inte saknar något på den platsen i livet jag vid tillfället befinner mig i. Man ska dock inte enbart fastna i det här med att inte bry sig för då drar man alla känslor över en kam och raderar alla känslointryck som upplevs, inklusive känslan av att vara glad. 

Vad ska jag börja med?

Supongo que tendre que seguir probando valores de densidad y viendo algunos ejemplos mas, ya que el efecto de escurrirse no se por que sucede, ademas tambien tendre que cambiar el sistema de movimiento por que antes lo gestionaban los nodos, pero ahora con el motor de fisicas lo hacen los bodys ( o eso creo ).

They're partially the reason for this whole electro-funk movement right now.  Here are a few of their albums for your listening pleasure.

The Bar-Kays-Light Of Life [1978] 

Link 2

The Bar-Kays - Money Talks [1978] 

Money Talks Link 2

The Bar-Kays - Flying High On Your Love [1977] 

Bar Kays Link 2

Tell me this isn't FREAK FUNK NASTY

One of my favorites

Another favorite of mine.  This is good funk-nastiness na'mean?  I love this freak shit.

And of course... the all-time great...

"Damn Randy, this is too hard to do."

"That's what she said."

Or

"Why can't you just come over now?"

"What happened to the art of foreplay?"

Comebacks, 1-liners, whatever you call them: the right ones work. Even classic ones.

"Where we having lunch?"

"By yo' momma's place as usual."

This weekend I was asked a good opener:

"Do you want muffin for breakfast?"

Sigh. How do you not throw in a comeback 1-liner to this? How I ask?