Archive for October 2001

18 October 2001

As Evolution 1.0 is fast approaching, Miguel and I decided to do a little cheerleading for the hackers.

Gerald has some pretty impressive credentials.

Shudder: October 10th photo of ordinance on board the USS Enterprise. Already dropped on Afghanistan?

I liked the way the reflection turned out here.

You know what’s kind of annoying? Sometimes, when you ask someone something and they say “Good question,” it’s pretty much impossible to tell whether they mean:

1. “That is an extremely insightful/creative/inspiring question.”

   or

2. “I do not know the answer to that question.”

(Oh God, this is turning into one of those web logs, isn’t it?)

Scary fads: searching on eBay for “anthrax”.

Art has some very good and very eerie photos of the WTO protests in Seattle last year. Do these look like scenes from some hyperrealistic video game to anyone else?

Haha.

You know, it just struck me: the preponderance of anthrax-related items on eBay isn’t just a “scary fad;” it’s a “scary scare fad.”

And in a few months, when we’ve all forgotten about anthrax and the run on gas masks, we’ll be able to say things like “That sad scary scare fad faded fast.”

PAUSE - ONE BEAT

How obvious is it that I’ve been awake since yesterday?

17 October 2001

So, Google runs another database update in about two weeks, and right now I’m the 13th result when you search for “nat”. I only need about 10 more high-ranking links to bump myself onto the front page of hits, so if you’re out there and have the means, please link to my page and help feed the vanity monster.

In Brookline.

This Friday, October 19th, is Ximian‘s second birthday. Woo hoo! I still clearly remember when we were four people, three of whom were working out of my apartment in Central Square and sleeping in shifts on the floor.

During the summer, power went out on my street pretty frequently.

Oh, and yesterday we announced that Mitch Kapor, founder of Lotus and cofounder of the EFF, has joined our esteemed board of directors.

On another note, why do people in big companies always say “intercompany politics,” when they mean “intracompany politics?” Are these the same people who say “supposably?”

In the old days, we would have linked stuff like this off www.ximian.com.

16 October 2001

Dear Mr. Schwan,

Your absence at our recent dinner — expertly and deliciously prepared by Mrs. Shona S. Blizzard-Derr — did not go unnoticed, despite the abundance of good feelings, good humor and good food present at said event.

Those of us fortunate enough to be in attendance at this happy gathering remarked frequently and with great eloquence on this, the most recent in a series of many cold rebuffs you have dealt us. Mr. Schwan, quite simply, we are hurt.

But deeply wounded though we may be, we will not allow our pain to turn to anger. We bear you no malice, we harbor no spleen for you, and we shall not betray the cloven foot. Nor shall we break a butterfly on the wheel at your cold-hearted slight, imbrue our hands in blood, plant a thorn in your breast nor do you ill office. In fact, Mr. Schwan, with swift and determined hands, we are throwing our thesauraus out. No longer shall we dragoon you with words.

Instead, as a show of our continued good will towards you and all other residents of the fair state of New Jersey (located a mere 5 hours from Boston), we present to you these uplifting and spiritually nourishing images of our weekend meal.

Our sincere hope is that these photos do not make you jealous of our unabated prandial joy.

With fondest wishes,

Nat Friedman

Ettore has had some great pictures lately. Particularly this and this and this.

And Hoy’s web site is just too disconcerting for words. Bear in mind that Hoy is about 15 years old…

11 October 2001

My parents are in town this week.

Mom.

They’re kind of different people.

Dad (and me).

What I mean is, they don’t always see things the same way.

Exhibit A.

But they seem to be getting along alright.

World Bank black sheep Joseph Stiglitz co-receives the Nobel Prize. Strange days.

Deep sigh.

The Forbes Four Hundred: Five of the ten richest Americans owe their fortunes to Walmart. Three to Microsoft.

10 October 2001

People were commenting that Joe has been too heavily featured in my pictures lately, so I decided to focus today’s entry on Jacob.

Jacob at play.

Now, this is a little personal, but the thing of it is, Jacob was, until recently, struggling under the suffocating weight of a paralyzing bout of depression. It was truly awful for those of us who count ourselves among his friends to see how stricken with sadness poor Jacob was.

But over the weekend Jacob has, by unknown means, overcome the demons that tormented his young soul, and this week, Jacob is a changed man. Indeed, for Jacob the last two days, you might rightfully say that the snail is on the thorn and God in his heaven. The man would be clicking his heels at every street corner, if he were the sort of person who does that kind of thing.

Jacob at rest.

Co-incidentally, Sunday was Jacob’s 23rd birthday. But of all his friends, only one was thoughtful enough to get Jacob a present. And let me just say, that person should be commended for his gracious thoughtfulness and striking good looks. But we’re getting off the subject.

The point is, to acknowledge Jacob’s tremendous personal strength, steadily increasing decrepitude and excellent taste in friends, I’d like to ask all of you to send him mail telling him, in no less than 200 words:

1. How proud you are of his recent turnaround.
2. What a great person he must be to have such caring friends.
3. That 23 is not so old, really, since, after all, Keats still had nearly three years left at 23, and good ones at that.

Your tender messages will be much appreciated (even more so if written in sonnet form).

Jacob at bay.

Update: It seems that Joe has ordered Jacob a present, but that it hasn’t arrived yet. Further announcements will follow as events warrant.

9 October 2001

Yesterday, we drove out of the city to see the leaves.

Joe rejoices in the autumnal foliage.

Alie at a roadside flea.

At a farmer’s market outside Newburyport.

Newburyport, Massachusetts.

Guest photo by Joe.

Note the rabid, unfaltering determination on my face.