Creative Commons — Kickstarter

These are a couple of quick links to a nova organum (in the sense of a new monster) I am trying to build via — it will be a curated site on ancient history and modern physics.  WIP. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

But it is also a link to two of the most important developments on the web: creative commons and kickstarter.  Both, I feel, are democritizing influences in a media that is under a great deal of pressure to become more corporate and push tech.

That is all. I will develop this theme a bit more as we all float on.


Via Scoop.itCreative Commons

Discover all the great Projects on Kickstarter under a Creative Commons license


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Filed under History of the Future

The Red Sea of Ixtapa

English: View of the mainland from an isolated...

Image via Wikipedia

A piece of flash fiction today. Maybe the kernel (maybe the operating system) of a story. Perhaps best left alone. Based, as they say, on a true story.


His shadow crossed her naked back in Mexico. She lay in the sand on her belly, straps undone. Massive rocks, anchored in the bay, watched immovable and impassive.
“Tell me why, Carla.”
Her smooth skin never rippled. A sigh alone escaped.
“I can’t talk to you like this, Frank. I need space.”
“You ran to the other side of the planet. I don’t have any more space to give.”
She still hadn’t looked up at him. Her eyes were closed behind designer shades. An issue of Soldier of Fortune lay curled by the wet tangle of her hair. “I can’t connect with you anymore, Frank.”
“You stabbed me! I nearly died!”
“Oh, so I can’t do anything right, is that it?”
“That’s not what I’m… Carla…. The Federales are up there in the lobby right now. I had to beg them for a minute alone with you. Tell me where the money is and I can still get you out of this.”
A translucent scorpion crawled by her mouth. She crushed it between her fingers. “You’re just not there for me emotionally.”
“Don’t you see? I searched the world for you. I never stopped thinking about you.”
“And that’s another thing: you’re too obsessive.”
“I’m not… That’s not the point. You stabbed me, Carla! How could you just walk away, leave me lying in a pool of blood in some godforsaken airport, screaming your name?”
“Why is everything always about you?”
His next sounds were not speech. “Just forget it. I can’t talk to you. Best of luck in prison.”
He said nothing. He surveyed the rocks, shifting his weight in the sand.
“Frank, put some oil on my back?”
“No way. Not this time. You know I know it’s a trick.”
“Frank, please. Don’t do this, not now. The sun is hurting me.”
He looked from one rock to the other. He cocked his head. A gull screamed, skimming the surf. “OK. Five minutes.”


English: View of the mainland from an isolated...

Image via Wikipedia

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Filed under Fiction, Travel

Why travel?

Why do you travel?

When I was asked this recently I had no answer.


Image by yilmaz ovunc via Flickr

‘Why not?’ is woefully inadequate. How about all you travelers on Triberr and Empire Avenue? {EAV:be3ccb82d15ad0e9}

How can you answer someone who doesn’t have the fever?

In Victorian times, the novel was born partially because people wanted to know about the world and couldn’t. Dracula was really just a travelogue with monsters on the side. Travel was dangerous and expensive. But now? It’s more dangerous to stay home.

If you want to see the world, go to YouTube. If you want to explore different ways of life, go on Twitter. If you want to expose your mind to the full experience of being alive, try to find a parking space at the mall.

Why travel? After crawling through the muddy underbelly of 54 countries, I still can’t tell you. I only hope the answer lies in 55.

Here are a couple of my crawls:

Summer in Bodrum

Poisoned on Paros


Filed under Travel

Meditation with Dino Dogan

Méditation d'automne...!!!

Image by Denis Collette...!!! via Flickr

What is meditation?

From the outside looking in, meditation is a practice of sitting in silence. Your silence, not the silence of others. Accomplishing this provides you with loads of patience, dedication and focus.

From the inside looking in, meditation is about observing one’s mind and one’s thoughts. It’s NOT about letting go, it’s not about quieting your mind. Quieting your mind is impossible if there is noise and you try to fight that noise. It only creates more noise.

Instead you must separate from your thoughts and observe them from a distance. In Buddhism, we call this observer/observed.

You detach your self from your thoughts (observed) and observe them from a distance. This create awareness of your awareness.

How does this help you in business?

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Filed under Guest post, Meditation

Relaunching the Blimp

This is no technological breakdown. This is the road…
Helium blimp Today I am relaunching the Blimp (BLog Is MicroPilot) with a focus on History, Travel and Meditation. These topics will sharpen as I figure out why we are here, how must one live as a philosopher, how to endure the thorns and claws of an angry world, and why a blog would be able to help with any of that. I welcome guest blogs from fellow triberrs and all well-reasoned comments.

From the quiet calm above the clouds, we will become our own panopticon.

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A Walking Tour with the Ghosts of Malacca, Malaysia

Map of Malaysia with Malacca highlighted

Image via Wikipedia

The Stadhuys on Dutch Square - Chmouel
The Stadhuys on Dutch Square –Chmouel
An introduction to the mysterious past of Malaysia’s wildest city, where sultans ruled the seas and pirates still hideout from Interpol.

There is nowhere better on Earth to experience Malaysia’s mash-up of three worlds: European, East Asian and Muslim history swirl and solidify into living ghosts on the cobblestone jungle streets of Malacca.

From Kuala Lumpur, it’s two hours by bus – a hot, crowded, rough ride with Japanese pop music blaring on a fuzzy radio. You’ll be ready to unpack your legs and forget the modern world when you hit town.

Read more at Suite101: A Walking Tour with the Ghosts of Malacca, Malaysia |


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The Detourists

Rock River at Grand Detour, Illinois.

Image via Wikipedia

We came to Davenport, across the Mississisppi from Rock Island, down from Grand Detour. The village is named because of an odd turn in the Rock River. Grand Detour is the site where John Deere invented the first successful steel plow. Many of the village’s founders came from Vermont, and in the sunset of the 1800’s, artists were rumored to live here.  They said that Orson Welles spent several summers here as a boy at a family hotel.

What they called the Grand Detour was honestly only a blip.  A common oxbow on the Rock River, looking from above for all the world on the plain like the manifestation of the alluvial hiccup.

We came from Chicago along the riparian margins.  We sluiced ourselves from the world.  Turbidity like smoke in the air. The hyporheic zone is a region beneath and lateral to a stream bed, where there is mixing of shallow groundwater and surface water. The flow dynamics and behavior in this zone (termed hyporheic flow) is needful for handshakes between the surface water and groundwater, as well as fish spawning and other unspoken things.

We came from St. Anthony where The Falls no longer fall, now called St. Paul, now called Minneapolis.  We came from a place where a city swallowed a forgotten city, named for a sickly hermit drowned forgotten and was too soon made the saint of lost things.

They say he died of too much water.  They called it dropsy then, an abnormal accumulation of fluid beneath the skin.  Perhaps he never recovered from his shipwreck.  Maybe working as a cook put too much salt in his kidneys. Nobody knows. He drowned inside his own skin.

The Falls were born 10,000 years ago, rivaling her Oriental twin Nigara with a sheer drop of 50 yards, turbid as smoke in the air, with a storming roar roiling miles across the open plains, terrifying the short-faced bears and sabretooth tigers.  The Falls were monstrous then — tearing off, spewing out monumental chunks of limestone as it chewed through North America at blinding 4 feet per year.

Only 150 years ago, a capitalist won his first claim on the land by the falls, a lumberjack with his sawmill and his dam plans.  Within six years, when the Excursionists straggled by to see them, The Falls were gone.

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Filed under Fiction, History