BUTCH ALLEN & SUNDANCE GATES–INFLICTORS OF CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT

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I’ve long been frustrated at the layout limitations of Blogger, so, fundamentally, this is a test of a program called Microsoft Live Writer 11 which is specifically designed for blogging. Actually, it is set up primarily to work with WordPress, but it has a setting which supposedly works with Blogger; so we’ll see. The illustration, courtesy of Zemanta, features Paul Allen and Bill Gates, back in the early Eighties, plotting to upset my tranquil writing world by introducing a series of lousy operating systems which dominated personal computing for the next quarter century (and caused me more delays, frustration and grief than I care to think about).

Finally, they have partially redeemed themselves with Windows 7, which works reasonably well, but is still inferior to Apple’s OS offerings; and I’m still waiting for compensation from Microsoft for cruel and unusual punishment.

To all you writers out there – and anyone else for that matter – go with Apple, and it’s related products, unless you are crazy. Of course, if you are a creative type, a degree of craziness just goes with the territory.

My main complaint with the Edit mode of Blogger has been that it doesn’t really do WYSIWYG whereas Windows Live Writer really seems to. What I hope that will mean in practice is that my text will consistently appear in both the font and size of my choosing instead of being somewhat erratic. I know one can correct such things by learning a little HTML, but so far I have resisted. I suspect I’m fighting a losing battle. Also, HTML 5 looks pretty good.

It was a grim and grizzly business being involved in the early days of personal computing – and I was actually involved from 1981 when IBM introduced their first PC. At the time I was living in Ireland, and the people who were marketing it knew so little about it that my first machine was delivered without an operating system. I should have taken that as a warning, and run out and bought a quill pen, but instead I persevered through more computer misadventures that I care to think about. Look for them in my memoirs, and buy some tissues before you read them. Jeremiah Johnson had it easy compared to my hunt for a consistently reliable computer.

Around 1984, I had the good sense to order one of the first Macs, but my supplier went bust so that went nowhere.  Then I tried out a NeXT computer in 1988 but couldn’t afford it – which was just as well because the Irish distributors couldn’t understand it, and NeXT, itself, went out of business. Nonetheless, it was a great machine and laid much of the groundwork for Apple’s stunning success. Steve Jobs, as doubtless you know, founded NeXT.

I’ll write more about MS Live Writer when I have used it longer. It pains me to say anything nice about Microsoft, but - so far - I’m encouraged.

 

Victor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MISSION IMPOSSIBLE - TO WRITE AS WELL AS ONE WANTS

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I’ve been trying to improve how I work recently. Given that I started as a a professional writer in 1986, a reasonable person might assume I would know how to write by now – but the truth is that I don’t think I’m there yet. True, I’m not without some skill, but I would like to be more than a technician. I would like to be able to touch people’s hearts – and that is no easy task.

It remains an ambition. My goal is to write with clarity, humor, style and empathy. It’s an exploration, a work in progress. It’s a deeply satisfying journey – but the goal is damnably elusive.

Did you know I was dyslexic (which covers a multitude)? I wasn't diagnosed until about 15 years ago. It is clear that the man who diagnosed me was on the button. Though I have no difficulty in reading now - and ended up top of my prep school (aged 12) - that merely proves the point that dyslexia has nothing to do with intelligence. Some of the signs were/are:

·         Learning to read late.

·         Being unable to learn - and recite - by rote.

·         Having difficulty in remembering - and confusing - messages.

·         Compensating by remembering by association; and then learning to deduce from the data I have assembled.

·         Having serious and sustained short-term memory issues including being unable to read a telephone number and retain it long enough to dial it without great effort.

·         Having great difficulty in filling in forms.

·         Disliking corporate environments (very few corporate executives are dyslexic).

·         Being entrepreneurial (entrepreneurs are disproportionately dyslexic).

·         Being an out-of-the-box thinker.

I wish I had studied all of this earlier but, in truth, I'm quite proud of my mind and it never occurred to me that I was suffering from a cognitive condition. Instead I attributed some of my behavior to flaws in my character - and tried to conceal them accordingly. 

Perhaps I still do.

Victor.

ASHES & IRELAND

Image via WikipediaTHE STORY SO FAR...


Jo has finally departed.


She actually died on December 22 2010 after making use of Washington State's enlightened Death With Dignity law (she had terminal cancer and was in terrible pain) but her ashes stayed here until her daughter, Penny, returned to her home in Italy at the end of February - and even then a sachet of her mother's ashes remained for me to bring to Ireland to a location I won't name for the moment. I was far from her closest friend - I only really got to know here as she was dying - but I helped look after her towards the end - and I'm Irish.


Suffice to say that Jo, who had been a travel guide, and had visited most of the known world, had a great sense of humor; and the love of her life had been an Irish-American (Special Forces).  And she loved books.


She, herself was not Irish. She was originally from Yorkshire, England. She was bored stiff, knew she was different, and joined the British Army to see the world. That organization didn't manage to hold on to her long (despite sensibly using her in intelligence), but seeing the world - up close and personal - she certainly did.


My daughter, Evie, who is off to Ireland shortly, is going to deliver Jo. The sachet that I handed over to her (it looks disconcertingly like a drug buy in the movies) was in a small shiny black bag that I had thought been provided by the crematorium until I read the label just before the handover.


It read: TULLALIP CASINO.


Jo, who was a world class adventurer, and gambled many times with her own life, would have approved. She would also be pleased that Evie will be the courier. They were friends.


Jo christened Evie "The Wild Child" - an entirely appropriate nickname for my much loved daughter who, like Jo, believes in living life to the full. That may be an understatement.


I confess to have been quite shaken by Jo's death, not just because being present as she died was stressful in the extreme, but also because it was followed by another death in the condo building of someone I knew well (a difficult man but not without his good qualities); and those two deaths were accompanied by the passing of three other friends. The Angel of Death seemed to be having a sleep-over. It makes one think.


I'm not sure I believe that life is "solitary, poor, nasty and brutish" but it is certainly short.


In case you are wondering, Thomas Hobbes was the author of that display of seventeenth century positive thinking.


My editors in the past have long told me that Americans don't understand irony (I think they underestimate my readers) - but that, folks, is irony!


Perhaps in reaction I went down with something extremely nasty in March and felt akin to a dead eel in April, but now sunny May in Seattle has arrived (I jest) seem to be back to full energy.


So expect blogs again.  If there is one constant in my ecclectic world, it is this:


I love to write. 




VICTOR.

A FIRE THAT WILL CROSS OCEANS

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A culture of oppression (whether corporate or government), excessive income inequality, unemployment, and lack of social concern, tends to have consequences.
Could the fire for genuine democracy kindles in Tunisia and Egypt, travel here?

Reportedly J.M. Barry, author of Peter Pan, The Admirable Crichton and a slew of other books and plays, wrote half a million words a year – all by hand. Not sure that is literally true but either way, the man was impressively prolific – not to say successful.

Apart from sharing the goal of most writers, which is to write as well as my brain tells me I can – but which is all too often contradicted by my fingers (which, being Irish are of an independent cast of mind) - I have long been concerned both to be as productive as possible, and to compensate for my cognitive deficiencies. Regarding the latter, I was diagnosed as suffering from a form of dyslexia in my fifties and certainly my brain seems to work in unorthodox ways. Some are advantageous, in that I have an excellent strategic sense and am pretty good at deductive reasoning. Others are a menace and include an inability to remember strings of numbers which makes performing some very simple tasks like dialing a phone number extremely difficult for me. However, most of us have quirks, and since I don’t sprout hair and howl like a wolf every full moon (or certainly won’t admit the fact) I consider I’m ahead on points, albeit I need all the help I can get.

I have tried to work around my deficiencies in various ways with varying degrees of success, but have probably achieved the best results with computers. Now that is ironic given that I have no innate talent for that area, but I have stayed with it resolutely pending the arrival of a guardian angel with a perfect memory who can type at speed. Overall it has been a long and painful journey which got off to a false start in 1981 when the IBM PC I ordered arrived without even a BIOS, and where the company I subsequently ordered a Mac from subsequently went bust. In the end, in 1986, I was kindly given a PC clone by a friend and was thus started – doubtless with the best of intentions - like most of us who opted for cheaper machines instead of Apples, on a road to computer perdition. Bill Gates has a lot to answer for.

There were various reasons why I didn’t switch to a Mac at various times – normally to do with lack of money or too much of an investment in PCs – but there were also periods when the future of Apple looked dicey. However, the primary reason why I didn’t switch to a Mac was that I was entirely hooked on a program called askSam which is a free-text database that I have now used for an astonishing 25 years and which functioned for all that time as an extension to my memory. In fact, I still use it although now in conjunction with other tools like Evernote and Google Notes.

Back in June 2010, I made the decision to go Google as far as possible and then in mid July started an intensive investigation of the Internet (what I call the Digisphere) to try and ascertain where the book business was likely to go and how I needed to adapt. Little did I know what I was getting into. I knew and used the Internet, of course, but up to then I had failed to appreciate the sheer scale of the transformation taking place and, in particular, the evolution at high speed of software tools, most available to rent for a surprisingly low monthly charge. In effect we are being given access to the greatest increase in cognitive leverage since the Dawn of Man; and it’s only beginning.

I wouldn’t have come to this conclusion if I had continued my traditional approach towards – to learn only enough to enable me to write and keep track of my research material. Instead, this time I set off on a much more open minded voyage of exploration and put much more time into learning as I progressed. And I worked fourteen hour days and didn’t try and write while this was going on. It was a fortunate strategy because it yielded a much broader perspective than might otherwise have been the case.

It now seems to me that we need to rethink how we do pretty much everything; and that our traditional organizational models – whether they be government, religious, academic, social or religious - need overhauling drastically.

And yet our politics and very culture seem to be mired in greed, bigotry, partisanship, an indifference to the plight of the less well off – and something remarkably akin to business as usual.

Does that remind you of anything? Mubakek’s mindset comes to mind.

If those who run these United States of ours don’t begin to appreciate what is happening – and adapt accordingly – we’re going to see the fire that was lit in Tunisia and Egypt making a sea journey and coming here.

IN PRAISE OF THE APPROPRIATE LENGTH & THE REASONED ARGUMENT

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Department of Adequate Length.

One of the many good things about the current digital revolution that is sweeping the media world is that it seems is if long form journalism is making a come-back.

Personally, I have long believed in the notion that issues are worth exploring at adequate length, and that brevity, for its own sake, tends to be destructive; but traditional publishers were concerned about the cost of paper (and believed it should primarily be used for ads) and were decidedly unconcerned about informing their readers adequately; so short became categorized as ‘good,’ and long as ‘bad,’ virtually regardless of the complexity of the matter at hand.

Enter the decline in the quality of American life which has been such a feature since the Seventies; insidious and largely hidden at first, but recently glaringly obvious.

Is there a relationship between a sound bite approach by the media to a public that seems incapable of discussing and resolving most issues more complex than American Idol? I advance that proposition. Clearly it is not the only factor – blatant commercial manipulation, outright propaganda, ingrained prejudices, and the nature of our educational system play no small role, but the absence of adequate homes for pieces which could really get to grips with a subject has, in my opinion, long been a matter of serious concern.

Department of Good News: Kindle Single Store and The Atavist.

Apart from the intrinsic flexibility of digital content (such files cost virtually nothing to store and reproduce) two recent developments give grounds for optimism. First is the introduction of the Kindle Single Store which is publishing pieces between 10,000 and 30,000 words in length. Second is the launch of The Atavist Let me quote their own words:

“The Atavist is a boutique publishing house producing original nonfiction stories for digital, mobile reading devices. We like to think of Atavist pieces as a new genre of nonfiction, a digital form that lies in the space between long narrative magazine articles and traditional books and e-books. Publishing them digitally and offering them individually — a bit like music singles in iTunes — allows us to present stories longer and in more depth than typical magazines, less expensive and more dynamic than traditional books.

Most importantly, it gives us new ways to tell some inventive, captivating, cinematic journalism — and new ways for you to experience it.”

DEATH IS UN-AMERICAN

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The Real World Again
It’s been over a month since Jo died – the actual date was December 22 2010 and the Memorials were on January 9 2011 – and I’ve been trying to adjust to the real world again. Mind you, death is as real as it gets though I’m not sure we accept that in the U.S. It is seen as somehow un-American and I have noticed that the general reaction to mentioning it is to change the subject and/or use euphemisms like “passed.”

The Blood Oaths Of Porsche Drivers
I can’t say I think much of that. I like words that that are clear and as free of hypocrisy as is humanly possible (a notable qualification). “Passed” doesn’t really convey the extraordinary transition which takes place when life leaves a body. Instead it reminds me of driving on German autobahns at 120 mph – something of a local custom - and being passed effortlessly by Porsche after Porsche. Rumor has it that Porsche drivers swear a blood oath to be the firstest and the fastest. My charming ex-wife, Liz, drives one now I think of it.

Forgotten Dead Bodies
As part of trying to trying to come to terms with Jo’s death – in particular of witnessing her drink the lethal dose and gazing at her for nearly thirty minutes until death was pronounced – subsequently I tried to recall all the violent deaths I had witnessed and/or bodies I had found, together with how I had felt at the time. It wasn’t a long list – it included a motorcyclist who had crashed into a wall in front of me who had broken his neck and a policeman shot close to me in Northern Ireland – but the odd thing was I completely forgot to include the hanging body I had found in a wood in Wales which had led to my writing GAMES OF THE HANGMAN.

The corpse was pretty damn gruesome and freshly dead; and the word “passed” did not come to mind.  The word "executed" did.

Go read the book.

DEATH WITH DIGNITY - THE PASSING OF JO CURRAN

JO CURRAN - Soldier, Adventurer, Mother, World Traveller, Mentor to the Fortunate, Friend to the Privileged. Married three times. Secretary of the INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF TOUR MANAGERS (U.S. Branch). Founder of WAYWARD WOMEN. A remarkable woman of true courage, who truly understood  the meaning and the wonder of life; and lived it at full throttle, on her own terms - right to the end.

Jo died on December 22 2010. She was 68. I haven’t felt much like posting since the occasion - nearly three weeks ago now – not that it feels that way. But yesterday two Memorial receptions were held to mark Jo’s passing, so it’s time to move forward; or it will be after I have described her actual death, and its aftermath, in more detail.

It may seem strange to say this, but Jo had a very good death; and its manner enriched us all. Indeed, her passing personified the good sense and humanity behind the DEATH WITH DIGNITY ACT.

Nonetheless, I will freely admit that I was, and remain, much affected by it. 

Jo’s Death

The following is the text of an email I wrote to a close friend of Jo’s who was away in Italy.

"Hi Sara--

"Jo remained cheerful, feisty and very, very funny until right to the end. She even stipulated that (her daughter) Penny buy Kool-Aid to mix her barbiturates in. We then all gathered just before 11.00 am, stood in a semi circle around Jo's bed and she joked and chatted with us until 11.30. I had initially arrived dressed a little more formally than was my custom around Jo; and she sent me back to change into the clothes she was used to seeing me in. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry - but I did as ordered.   

"At 11.30, she asked Penny and me to move her into a sitting position - as we had been doing every morning for the past weeks - normally prior to moving her to her chair (a truly horrendous ordeal for Jo which took considerable time - but which she insisted on doing). On this occasion we merely had to keep her supported while she drank. We then lowered her down when she requested it, and she started saying a few words to each of us while the drug took effect. She then said something like she was sorry I had lost my chance to get her into bed! She was incorrigible to the end.

"She didn't manage to speak to us all. The drug took effect within a couple of minutes. We then all stood there for nearly half an hour while her breathing grew more and more ragged until finally she was silent. Pat Downs. a hospice nurse for many years, then pronounced her dead. Penny, crying, had stroked her mother's hand the entire time and looked bereft but in control. She had been magnificent throughout.

"People have decidedly mixed views about DEATH WITH DIGNITY but Jo's medical condition was fatal, the timing imminent and she was in terrible pain despite all the medication. Further, her condition was visibly deteriorating. Indeed on Monday, for the first time she screamed when we were moving her. The error had been mine. I had failed to lower my hand exactly in sync with hers when she started to sit down. I was focused on trying to keep her chair steady. I gather I went as white as a sheet. Pain wracked though she was, Jo then apologized for scaring me.   

"Jo hated the bathroom aspects of her condition - though it mattered not a whit to either Penny or myself - but though she thought adult diapers and the like were humiliating, in truth she never lost her dignity for a second.

"A truly magnificent rainbow appeared shortly after she died. It wasn't shaped in the normal curve but was shorter and pretty much pointed straight up into the sky.

"I suspect that one way or another Jo will be with us all until we too, embark on the same journey. It would be a fine thing if we could do it with as much grace, dignity and humor.

"Jo told me directly that you were very special to her - and I know you felt exactly the same way. But we shouldn't feel sorrow at her passing. She did the right thing, in the right way and at the right time - and she was in control until right to the end; which is exactly what she wanted. She died surrounded by friends in her own bed and there was much laughter in that last half hour.

"That said, though I'm sure there is more that I could tell you, I can't write further without crying.

"Have a marvelous Christmas with Riccardo. Raise a glass to Jo. She'll be watching over you." 

"Send me a sign when you cross over to the other side?"
"I will, though I'm not sure you'll recognize it."
The rainbow that appeared shortly after Jo died.

The Memorial for Jo at Spinnaker Bay

Spinnaker Bay in Rainier Beach is the 72 apartment condominium complex where Jo lived in a book-lined two bedroom apartment overlooking Lake Washington since 1994. She loved the place, had many friends there and reveled in the sense of community the condo offers. The memorial was organized by my friend, Chris Carrdus, who manages the site together with the president of the complex, Barbara Chamberlain. It was well attended.

A feature of Jo’s passing – despite the sadness we all feel – has been a sense of ‘rightness’ about the whole affair. One of Jo’s friends, the retired hospice nurse, Pat Downs - and a fellow member of Jo's Honor Guard, remarked that although Jo was a meticulous researcher and planner, she also had that invaluable quality of being able to get the most out of every day, and to improvise if necessary on the spot. Accordingly, if Jo was involved, things tended to just fall into place regardless of the unexpected. Jo could just get things to work – an invaluable talent given that she made her living as a tour director and travelled to many parts of the globe where the kind of services the West takes for granted just don’t exist. In fact, Jo had visited 358 degrees of the Earth’s 360 degrees of longtitude and has delegated her granddaughter, equipped with half of her ashes to visit the last two degrees on her behalf. As to where the balance of her ashes will go, suffice to say that, yet again, Jo’s sense of humor, has prevailed.

The non-denominational Memorial took place in the condo’s club house. Though unscripted, virtually all her friends spoke – most telling humorous anecdotes (items in virtually endless supply where Jo was concerned). The atmosphere then became decidedly more electric when those of us at the memorial, who were present at her death – her ‘honor guard,’ as she put it - were asked to describe it. What struck me forcibly during that process was how much our recollections differed despite the fact we were all in the same room at the same time and the entire process lasted little more than an hour. We didn’t differ on the fundamentals of course, but had decided differences in terms of timing and detail. This is a well known phenomenom which makes one wonder if there is a definitive history of anything. I rather think not; and these few words are no more than impressions.

Perhaps the most striking words were spoken by one of Jo’s doctor’s, Dr. Monica Campo. She articulated the reality that despite modern drugs and surgery, all too often she and her colleagues cannot do much other than stand by while patient after patient dies in pain and uncertainty; and then she contrasted Jo’s determination to take charge of her own end and the vivid impression it had made on her – to the point of changing her mind about how the manner of our dying should be approached. In truth I’m not conveying the spirit of Dr. Campo’s words adequately. What I can say is that they were expressed with great clarity and compassion – and we were all much affected by what we heard.

Being neither wayward (perhaps a debatable point) nor a woman, I didn’t attend the second memorial which was held in her friend artist Sondra Shira’s remarkable house for the members of the organization she, Jo, had founded, Wayward Women – but I heard it went equally well. The name can be interpreted several ways, as befits Jo’s sense of humor, but essentially it refers, not to sexual behavior, but to women who travel widely and alone. Some of their journeys are truly extraordinary. Without doubt, in addition to living life to the full, and having had enough adventures to put Indiana Jones to shame, the woman had impressive friends. One of them, Nicki Riley, a fellow tour director, said that when Jo had been asked to send a sign after she made it over to “the other side;” she had replied. “I will, but I’m not sure you’ll recognize it.” As it happened a truly beautiful rainbow appeared shortly after Jo’s death – and, as you can see from the photo, appears to point skyward. A coincidence or Jo’s message? That is for you to decide.

One wild and previous life?

Jo had a couple of favorite quotes which are very typical of her:

“The most important kind of freedom is to be who you really are.”  Jim Morrison

"Tell me what it is you that you plan to do with your one wild and previous life? A ship is safe in port, but that is not what ships are for?"  Mary Oliver.