As If It Matters

After months of talking about it, I’m finally on the air again. Or maybe it should read “on the web”. Or “in the pod”. My first podcast is with Tim Jones — and there is more to come, believe you me. The full MP3 is here, on the newly re-designed EchoDitto website.

Note to self: explore bluetooth and be sure to get setup with VoIP. I think I might need a new gadget to complete the fusion between bluetooth, mobile phone, and VoIP. Oh well — not on the market until April. Damn.

It all started two weeks ago, when I was crashing at Massey’s. He got me to return to the WOW — Work Out Wednesday. Last time I went was in 2000. So, a couple of Wednesdays working out with Chuck — although I never did see Ron.

Then I started crashing on Harish’s sofa. (and yes, I am looking for an apartment… any ideas? as close to 3330 Washington Blvd as possible, pls.) Well, Harish got it into his head that we needed to go to Boot Camp three mornings a week, and slowly work up to five mornings a week. So last week we did three, but man it was rough. And today, well — that’s what this story is about.

First of all, Boot Camp is at 5:55 am. As an email from the instructor attests, it is not at 5:56 or 5:57. No, it’s at 5:55. for exactly one hour.

And it’s outside.

did I mention it’s outside?

And outside at 5:55 in the morning in December — well, let’s just say it’s a bit chilly.

But this morning, damn. I mean, did I mention it was outside? Push-ups, sit-ups, sprints, lunges, jumping jacks, all manner of random boot-campy exercises… and all of them in the freezing cold. This morning it was something like 10 degrees F outside. 10!! And then there’s the windchill.

Did I mention that boot camp is outside?

This morning, my waterbottle FROZE while we were working out, so that I was unable to drink from it during our single break.

This morning, the wind was howling so loudly I couldn’t hear the instructor shouting “ONE…TWO…THREE…”

This morning, I lost feeling in all of my extremities… including my backside, which was so numb as to be completely non-existent.

This morning, my skin was so cold that the hot shower was painful… I had to ease my way in to a warm-ish shower so as to survive.

Did I mention that Boot Camp is outside?

Who’s up for joining me tomorrow?

Today found me reciting poems to various people and groups in the hallways around the conference. It was in part a salve to keep my crankiness to a minimum.

Then I turned around and found an email from the infamous Chris Massey with the subject line “Public poetry stands”:

I was born in Kumasi, Ghana, and grew up around the world, graduating from high school in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. But after returning to the United States in 1995 to go to college, I haven’t left the country except for a brief visit to Haiti in December of 1997. But last week I went to Rome and man oh man did that trip awaken a deep appetite for finding the rest of the world.

So when Gina suggested that I join this trip to Iran, I started to get excited. I haven’t signed up yet, but I’m very very interested and seriously considering joining the trip. (plug: Buy some of my flower photos and help me find the cash to go.)

Given my interest in poetry, Iran has special significance. But just as important, Iran is home to significant blogging community. This weekend at the Harvard Law Internet & Society conference I discovered Hodder and my interest and knowledge of Iranian blogging intensified.

So if anybody out there has any suggestions for me — on whether I should go to Iran, and who I should meet there, and what I should see there — bring it on.

At lunch a couple weeks ago Dave Winer invited me to join a panel at Harvard Law School’s Internet & Politics conference. Very generous of him – especially since they paid for travel and lodging.

The session was titled “Blogging and Local Politics”. The discussion went off today pretty well — you can listen to it on the internet and politics podcast and for the non-iPodders among you silbo live-blogged the local blogging talk).

But at the end of the day I just don’t think I’m a conference person. Maybe I’m too tired this weekend, or too cranky, but sitting in these sessions – and leading one – well, it’s just not something I feel like doing. It’s funny; I like discussion, debate, engagement. But conference life just seems draining and pointless.

On the other hand, I’ve met a bunch of excellent people, discovered some new sites, educated myself on new issues, gotten involved with very interesting projects, and saw old friends. So maybe conferences aren’t so pointless after all, and I’m just having a case of the sleepy-grouchies.

Touring Rome last week was exhausting. And yes, my feet ache – but the truth is it was tremendous mentally taxing. Comprehending the feats of engineering, art, and philosophy wrapped up in the thousands of years of Roman history was too much for my dark, tiny brain. The sheer imagination involved to consider the Roman Empire was overwhelming – especially given my miserable lack of knowledge around all things Roman. The breadth and depth of my Roman history is derived from a single book I read six months ago as part of my continuing education program under the auspices of Joe Costello. Don’t get me wrong; it’s a great book – but not enough to really get inside the Ruins of Rome.

I was especially overwhelmed by our visit to the Roman Forum and surrounding ruins. Over and over again we were presented with these shards of history that seemed incredible, suggesting that despite a couple thousand years of “progress” the scale of the Roman Empire is completely comparable to the American Empire (and it is an Empire). The Pantheon was the largest dome made by humans until the Superdome was built in New Orleans. The Roman Empire had more roads than the United States until 1984. The Coliseum laid out a basic stadium design still used to this day. Walking around the ruins, the place still smelled of blood and power. At one point, while considering what little I know of the long history of the ground I was standing on, I turned around to find people leaving flowers on the tomb of Julius Caesar.

And through it all is some great thread of tragedy. For all of the magnificence of Roman accomplishment, it went from grand Republic (the seal of Rome on every cop car still carries that symbol of ancient pride – SPQR, “The Senate and People of Rome”) to fetishistic Empire. Tom Holland writes in Rubicon that

In one of my earlier posts from Rome I marveled at Marcus Agrippa’s inscription on the Pantheon, and Costello was quick to point out in an email that Agrippa held significant responsibility for helping Augustus bring Rome from Republic to Empire through the Consulship.

Overwhelmed by all the history and all the politics, I decided to delve into the latest issue of Wired Magazine on the flight back. It’s an issue devoted to exploration – sea, space, etc. But it was the ocean exploration stuff that really excited me. A couple years ago I remember reading some article somewhere about sea exploration and it really got me going: high-risk, tech-centric, expensive, profit-less (money-wise), and ultimately kind of poetic. Of course, I don’t have any of the requisite skills – no biology, not much math, never been diving, not an engineer. But an item from the article by Robert Ballard – “The British Empire is said to have had more dedicated exploration ships in the late 18th century than the entire world has today…” raised my hackles. At some level, that just seems like a crime.

After reading Chalmers Johnson’s “Sorrows of Empire” (another Costello recommendation), it’s not hard to leap to the conclusion that compared to the Roman Empire and the British Empire, the U.S. of A. Empire spends a disproportionate, disturbingly large amount of its resources in pursuit of better weapons. Consequently, some of the grander pursuits of science might get neglected these days. The Wired issue is guest edited by James Cameron, who pens a strong call to exploration, and reading it I felt like he was on to something – that we’ve lost a sense of wonder, a sense of wonder that lends itself towards a delight in exploration. In the introduction, he opens by saying “Thankfully, I’m sensing a resurgence of the collective will. We stand on the edge of a glorious new age of exploration.”

A couple months ago Silbo introduced me to the stats page of LiveJournal. I was stunned at the number of people creating their own blogs who were under the age of 19 – that is, the bulk of them. It occurred to me that a byproduct of a generation of bloggers might be a new spirit of innovation, a sort of do-it-yourself attitude that might re-invigorate the culture. It’s certainly evident in little ways, like Ready-Made magazine and the entrepreneurial spirit of the tech industry. And maybe this spirit of innovation, coupled with the “resurgence of the collective will” Cameron writes about (and we experienced on the Dean campaign) will come together to give the broader culture a real spirit of empowerment (perhaps not unlike the Roman engineers and inventors, whom our tour guide extolled in glowing terms) that can fire up a new age of exploration and take us to new places – beyond empire.

Just got in… lots to write about, but internet access was hard to come by the last few days. I just uploaded the last batch of photos, added about 50 photos to the Nicco.org Roma, Italia Photo Gallery. Stay tuned, more to come…

Another installment of the Gelato Advenutures. Last time we enjoyed our pinolata gelato, but found it leaving it something more to be desired. This time, in a gelato cafe near the Pantheon, we had a much more satisfying experience.

After a careful survey of all available flavors, it came down to a choice between tiramasu and almond. In the end, the pleasing presentation of the almond flavor triumphed, and I eagerly awaited the scoops that were to follow.

I was not disappointed. The almond gelato — mandorla gelato — was intensely flavorful and was like a creamy marzipan to be enjoyed. The serving size was just right — large enough to give the tastebuds thoughtful appreciation, but small enough to leave you desiring more.

I suppose it’s possible that I prefer almond flavor over pinenuts, but I’m not sure that’s the case. It’s also possible that pinenuts just have less flavor than almonds, but even so the pinenut gelato disappointed in terms of its texture, color, and overall performance. My only criticism of the almond gelato was that it was just a bit too creamy — on the verge of becoming butter.

The big question is: what flavor gelato will I sample tonight? I still haven’t found basil. Basil is my favorite flavor of ice cream, and I suppose I got my hopes up — I think we just haven’t found a gelato cafe with as wide of a selection as I really need to complete my research.

Last night I had the distinct pleasure of dinner at the Pantheon. I’m trying to upload some photos to the gallery. On the outside of the Pantheon, engraved in that wonderful Roman font, it says “M. AGRIPPA L. F. COS. TERTIUM FECIT”. I’m told it means “Marcus Agrippa, son of Lucius, in his third consulate, made it.” Something about the sheer self-indulgence of proclaiming on the front of this magnificent building, “MARCUS AGGRIPA BUILT THIS” carries great humor for me. It’s a bold statement of magnificent accomplishment. The only modern counterpart that I can think of is “Trump Tower” but it’s not quite the same as “DONALD, SON OF TRUMP, BUILT THIS”.

We had dinner in the square and I sat so I could see it the whole time. Yes, Marcus Agrippa, we hear you. You built it. Although apparently you didn’t: