Thinking of Eric Raymond

I want to get this right, Eric. I’ve been thinking of what you described in The Cathedral and The Bazaar, I won’t slow down here to say you are an eloquent and gifted writer, but you are. I’m thinking of way you describe programmers working together in the open source fashion, sharing brain power, networking brains, “parallel processing” in their many brains, a peer network of great intelligence and I’m wondering if this might be something writers are doing in blogs.

Maybe blogging has those same dynamics of open source programming, where there is no doubt the networked power of many people taking an idea and thinking it through about 25 iterations in … 25 hours … instead of 25 days or 25 weeks of 25 months or 25 years … maybe that’s what blogging is actually about.

And I’m thinking of this, Eric, because yesterday at the Harvard Conference, Doc and I both had a “Whoa! Aha! Hey!” moment when one of the Harvard Business School professors, Robert Cialdini, was describing a conversation with the DNA guy Watson … or was it Crick? … no, it was Watson who was explaining why they had the breakthrough on DNA and some other more intelligent folks did not.

The reason? He gave a few preliminary ones, but the humdinger was that they chose to collaborate and leverage the power of their colleagues and the other researcher thought that that wasn’t necessary.

If blogging is open source thinking, then that may be why it’s such a turn-on. I mean, really, how much of it is the content – how much does anyone want to read about someone’s cat or whatever … but it’s not about that, I mean the cat stuff is just as cool as any of the rest of it. The cat stuff matters, in that it’s what takes up space in a blogger’s head with everything else.

If you’re “going in” – yes, if you plan to do some cranial scuba diving -- you need to get in deep with the cats, the disappointing dates, the RSS fights, the discussions of freedom and authenticity, the visit to a 90-year-old mom in North Carolina, the thoughts on privacy and homeland security, all of it – because YOU NEED TO GET INTO ANOTHER PERSON’S HEAD. So blogging is parallel processing, one networked brain made of many, e pluribus unum, with feline fur.

Traditional Japanese Breakfast

Green Tea
Dried Seaweed
Broiled Salmon and Pickled Vegetables
Scrambled Eggs
Miso Soup with Green Onions

Now this is my idea of a he-man breakfast. I’m at the Plaza reading the room service menu, starving and reluctant to plunk down $27.00 for “The New Yorker” breakfast, coffee , two eggs, sausage, toast, juice.

On the other hand, for a dollar more I can pretend I’m a Japanese newly wed starting the day with a serious protein packed breakfast and a new husband. .

I am not a Japanese newlywed, but I’ve seen some in Central Park, dressed like twins, taking pictures of one another with excellent cameras, and it seems so irresistibly cute to begin married life dressed alike – I find it touching and naïve in the extreme.

They really do have that tradition of dressing alike on a honeymoon. I’ve seen it. Also, sometimes I’ve offered to take their picture in the park, they’ve let me hold their excellent camera.

Perhaps I’d still be married if we’d taken a page out of that Japanese book and just dressed alike. Perhaps if we had dressed alike, we would have thought alike. Perhaps if we had eaten seaweed and salmon every morning, things would have gone more swimmingly. Perhaps …

Right Coast/Left Coast

Blogger’s dinner at Katz’ Deli last night was a ton of fun, but boy, have I got Coasteremia. It’s confusing to have Dan Gillmor of the San Jose Merc stroll down Houston Street and look like he lives around the corner, but he lives on the other coast. And then Anil Dash, or someone pretending to be Anil Dash pops up and I had him in my mind as a West Coaster too, so this is also confusing to learn I just happened to be wrong about that.

BTW, all the most swell and cool NYC bloggers were in attendance.

And Kevin Werbach is up from Philly, but always makes me think DC and is as likely found on the right coast as the left.
And Doc hosted so that meant his shocking suggestion the night before that 25 – 30 people might show up was of course -- spot on. And he’s from the West Coast, some town called, Hanna Barbera or something.

And if the two coast problem wasn’t bad enough, don’t forget another celebrity spotting – JP Rangaswami from London, so we’re talking Dover Beach if you want another coast.

And then there’s me – the one wearing the “Halley Suitt, Church Council” name plate last night (holding my special Katz Deli Orange Meal Ticket which I only lost 2 times) – there I was, I live in Boston now, visiting the Big Apple these past two days, only three grueling East Coast winters away from my ten-year stint in California, and you can take the girl out of Manhattan Beach, CA, but you can’t take the Manhattan Beach or the Manhattan out of the girl, so I’m in complete coast confusion.

And I don’t need to point out the obvious, but it seems easier to find all you guys online these days than to actually expect to find you in some town. [Big Thanks to Doc and Sebastian for the pix.]

NYC Bloggers Dinner

Okay, is he teasing me ... after all my writing about men and sex and alpha males, etc. Doc decides we should do the bloggers dinner on Thursday night at the same deli where Meg Ryan did that scene where she imitates an orgasm ... hmm, now Doc ... you're not throwing down a challenge or anything I hope.

Thursday, May 1, 7 PM, Katz Deli, 205 East Houston Street, see all info here.

Safe As Houses

BTW, in case I did get anyone worried, don't be. I feel safe as houses. I don't know what that means exactly, that odd expression, but I do feel safe and sound. Traveled down to NYC today and it was a piece of cake. I love NYC and I forgot how much I love it. Fun to be here.

Meanwhile, Doc's given us a location for dinner on Thursday night, thank goodness. More about that above.

Let's Be Careful Out There

On September 10th, 2001 I wrote a story .... just a short story about a couple having a marital spat. For some reason, in the first paragraph, I used the language,

"She amd her husband Jim had been fighting all morning, one of those perfect terrorist bombings only a married couple of a dozen odd years could pull off. They had masterminded the thing, blowing to smitereens whatever conjugal peace had been in place for the last few weeks, both of them left bleeding and battered by 10:30 am. At least she had some place to go that morning. She'd pulled herself together, dressing very quickly in her best wool suit, dousing her wounds with perfume, wrapping herself in a Hermes silk scarf, as if such bandaging would speed heeling."

I saved the story, half finished that morning under the title "September 10, 2001" as I often do when I'm just starting a new story. I didn't look at it for nearly a month -- you can imagine why. My family and I were shaken at that time, but suffered no direct losses. Thank God.

I didn't even remember writing it. Then one day, I was looking through my writing on my hard drive and came across it, began to read it and nearly fell off my chair.

Why am I mentioning it? Well, I have a strong sense of intuition. A friend pointed out I've been writing in the past few days about disasters. I hadn't even noticed. So here's what I think. I feel something's cooking. And I feel like we can all do a good job of being AWARE and VIGILANT in the next few days. We can do the excellent job of trusting our intuition just like the flight attendant did on the shoe bomber flight. I don't mean to freak you out. I just feel something and I know it's a good time for us all to be aware and connected and help one another out. I hope I'm completely wrong.

I'm A Survivor

I packed for a trip tonight and FINALLY, now that the winter is over, found my long underwear for skiing which I really needed all winter but could not find. It was tucked away in a knapsack that I had commandeered for an emergency. Something 9/11-ish or something Anthrax-ish or your basic Bioterrorism. I was looking at the clothes I had packed and was unimpressed with my strategy. The clothes were very comfortable, boring, a little loose and not at all sexy.

Of course, the shoes I'd packed were flats. A lot has changed in my life since I packed that suitcase. If I really plan on surviving, I'm going to replace my flats with really sexy stilleto heels in my emergency sack. Just think, how many women will have really sexy high heels in their emergency backpacks? Almost none. So right off, this means you have a rare, extremely attractive barter item, or perhaps you might need the shoes to dress up in and ask for favors. One must never rule this type of thing out. In fact, Sketchers makes high heel sneakers that are perfect for civilian defense. I need to get some. And as for undies, I packed some of my least sexy? What was I thinking?!

SARS

Over the weekend, my 7-year-old son was asking about it -- are we at risk, is it dangerous -- and I feel sad to think how many things in his world are risky. So much more risky than my world was ... or at least felt.

Oh Yes

How I feel today. Celebrate! Good stuff coming our way. Always darkest right before the dawn. And then at dawn, you remember what really matters.

Going Fibonacci

I'm just going Fibonacci today. It's that kind of a day. Kick back, relax and just let those integers mate. I'm spiral-bound today.

Don't ask. Just messing with your mind. Getting ready to leave Harvard next week, so I'm putting the jaws of life to the old cranium. Hear it, oh yes, racheting open, like an observatory dome beginning to bust at the seams, looking for some vast dark night sky. Telescope peeping into the heavens ... what was that streak of light ... Halley's What?