Double espresso in a lifeboat cup stands on the table as a symbol of thought process overture. Years and years of this addiction, morning to morning cycle of roasted bean - flavored days. Same as the music, coffee gives special taste to life. Sad as it is, that is the fact of how most of us live. We try to color life, paint it every day with something to occupy our senses. As if we live in the void, without any a priori notion with sole purpose of being artists of our own lives.
Therefore, art seems like the ultimate measure of all things. Some of it just exists by itself, some of it was given birth by others and some of it is simply our burden to create.
Consider sailing. Muscles of bearded men against the power of the wind and wrath of restless sea. Meaningless white arcs as mere dots in this grandiose infinity. Isn't this helplessness the ultimate expression of beauty-seeking soul ?
The coffee boat is nearly empty and senses are getting dry. White seagull traverses Nordstaden bay as he continues to draw lemiscates in the sky.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Berlin ex post
Days have passed since leaving the Tegel terminal chasing desperate bits of tmobile wifi. Sitting on the shores of magnigicent Adriatic, the scroll of iPod playlist passes over David Bowie's Heroes ... and I can't help it. Press play and it all comes back.
The lonely walk across Checkpoint Charlie. Cynical smile on tourist hordes in desperate pursuit for vanity photos and "I was there" badges. Takeaway pieces of the Wall and nights lost in oblivion. The giant celebration of long awaited victory. The triumph. The prize.
Yet, the truth is only a mile away on the east. As we pass the gate of triumph, past beyond collectible shops,we still see the same despair, the same abandoned wasteland in ideology of nothingness. The new Wall arises. The Ghetto. Void souls traversing the same ex-Lennian minimalism convinced that they live in modern-day utopia.
It seems that, once there was a hope here. A genuine feeling. A living life. Yet, what I see now is a synthetic fiber of modern-day self-admiration, in a world that elevates not caring about anything to mankind's ultimate purpose.
And once again, the cycle of life. Morning rays tear down the short summer night. The Tower turns it's lights off and morning glory is reflected on it's chrome sphere. Everyone is still awake, enjoying the Prize. Tired of nightmares chasing me on my computer anywhere I go, in a desperate attempt to escape, I join the oblivious hordes and pursuit salvation in my morning sleep.
The lonely walk across Checkpoint Charlie. Cynical smile on tourist hordes in desperate pursuit for vanity photos and "I was there" badges. Takeaway pieces of the Wall and nights lost in oblivion. The giant celebration of long awaited victory. The triumph. The prize.
Yet, the truth is only a mile away on the east. As we pass the gate of triumph, past beyond collectible shops,we still see the same despair, the same abandoned wasteland in ideology of nothingness. The new Wall arises. The Ghetto. Void souls traversing the same ex-Lennian minimalism convinced that they live in modern-day utopia.
It seems that, once there was a hope here. A genuine feeling. A living life. Yet, what I see now is a synthetic fiber of modern-day self-admiration, in a world that elevates not caring about anything to mankind's ultimate purpose.
And once again, the cycle of life. Morning rays tear down the short summer night. The Tower turns it's lights off and morning glory is reflected on it's chrome sphere. Everyone is still awake, enjoying the Prize. Tired of nightmares chasing me on my computer anywhere I go, in a desperate attempt to escape, I join the oblivious hordes and pursuit salvation in my morning sleep.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Berlin dawn :: 4am songbook
||| blinkenlights of television tower under the delicate smile of newborn moon.
||| under the skyline of despair.
the daytime mist arrives.
... across pale reminiscents of dark ages. |||
||| under the skyline of despair.
... filled with memories of hope. |||
the daytime mist arrives.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
LED Despair
In-memory Hadoop tasks. Long silence of jet lag memory. Delayed arrival of soul. Again.
The Interview.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Plastic Cocoon
White leather in baby-boomer era shop. Explosion of "input" throughout 60 years of scientific computing.
Design of modern econometric software interface. Simultaneous equations, macro variables. Solving large systems. Detecting feedback loops in online dynamics using voidbase. Tweets/topic frequency, news, trends. Automatic model-building and hypothesis testing.
Treating website management as policymaker problem ? Macroeconomic models of website user dynamics ? Closed economies + controlled foreign trade.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Marching life
Grand Pleasures with yellow light bulbs. Taste of espresso summoning from the long tranquil. Single entry on a vacancy of four.
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