Tangerine: A Book of Hours

Everything holds still when the current fails. Silence, as batteries, summoned, whisper of a future solid-state and untethered.

The interior goes pre-industrial, architectural. Natural light (or shadows) shading walls and doorways...differently.

Devices are subdued.

So. Drift to the outside like a ghost, unlinked. Water in a glass. Pen and paper. The ticking of a tiny second hand on a wristwatch.

And sunlight, tall sky blue, unconditioned air. Here there are birds, the confetti-flutter of butterflies, and the high-contrast color-pop of flowers. Vast mountains of living green.

Environmental photosynthetics with high resolution details and endless sight-lines.

Then the power is back, with a whirl and flicker of digits. The answering machine’s synthetic voice whispers instructions and light bulbs open their glowing filament eyes.

Reboot.

Posted by The Allurium at 2:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Friday, and the rains are a ghost: lingering but not really present. Evening is full-on, yet the light is higher now than it was earlier. Birds in red and brown flitter and chirp, the highway whispers, and a plane buzzes by, far above.

Unseen.

I'm dressed and just about ready to float out into the weekend. Having a tall cold glass of water, at the moment. Typing to silence...mostly. I have been vaguely sleepy all day, a bit dislocated. Things feel calm.

At this point the weekend seems like a cat, slow-stretching.

I'm looking forward to going out, unwinding further. Despite the "neither here nor there" feel of the day, I managed to get a fair amount of stuff done. Things are quiet now, sleepy but ready to groove.

So I'm waiting, dreaming myself awake.

Posted by The Allurium at 8:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

From what I understand, their understanding comes down to probability:

Machines and systems built to converse and carry-out actions based on the spoken word. The advance that is pulling them closer to reality? Probability.

They learn and remember, then try to guess the phrase you are most likely to use next. From that, a strange sort of understanding arises.

Supposedly, by 2010, there will be speech recognition systems that can transcribe the spoken word better than humans bent to the same task.

I wonder what understanding like that would (or will) be like?

Knowing by approximation.

Building a mystery, as Sarah sings.

I wonder if it is like music? Sometimes certain notes feel right following others. Sounds that fit together like a smooth pretty puzzle.

I wonder how far ahead a machine or program could guess correctly?
When processor speed goes from breeze to hurricane can prediction blur into precognition?

They say it works better with faces. Vision. If the system can watch while you speak, its accuracy increases considerably.

At some point, will you stand before a fast construct, open your mouth to speak, and have it gently tell you:

"I understand."

Approximately.

Posted by The Allurium at 9:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I like the taste of red wine. That tart, velvety feel on the tongue.

And the way a chip of ice melts inside your mouth.

Barbecue sauce (especially if it is sweet) and tofu both have contradictory flavors that I enjoy. After swimming in the ocean, I like the way the sea water tastes, sun-drying on my lips.

Mmm, and a kiss...

The stereo is randomly shuffling. The day is sunlight and blue skies. I'm kind of stretched out and vaguely tired -- but not that bad. Thinking about sensory data. And the coming holiday weekend.

Into July, already: Summer standing tall, flowing out in all directions.

I definitely have a taste for it now.

Posted by The Allurium at 2:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)