Over at Edge, Kevin Kelly confronts the economics of the digital age:

When copies are super abundant, they become worthless. When copies are super abundant, stuff which can't be copied becomes scarce and valuable.

When copies are free, you need to sell things which can not be copied.

Well, what can't be copied?

...

From my study of the network economy I see roughly eight categories of intangible value that we buy when we pay for something that could be free.

Today's Zelda's Inferno exercise: writing from a goofy rhyming wordlist. This was fun. The list:

dense, fence, pretense, Chincoteague, Grieg, blitzkrieg, wampumpeag, resign, align, divine, bill cosby, autopsy, dropsy, biopsy, necropsy, bumblebee, nominee, divorcee, android, unalloyed, hemorrhoids, asteroid, unalloyed, bookend, unbend, offend, transcend, floundering, boundering, foundering, dumbfounding, granite, planet, pomegranate, sandpit, dribble, nibbles, scribbles, kibbles, apocalypse, eclipse, tidytips, fish and chips

A recent Slashdot discussion brought up the the way that Soledad O'Brien asked John Edwards about evolution, specifically the phrase "man came, evolution-wise, from apes.", and whether that was an attempt to whip up the ""I didn't come from no monkey!" camp.

It got me imagining my ideal candidate giving a reply. Wouldn't you love to hear something like this:

"Why, yes, Ms. O'Brien, according to our best evidence we did descend from apes - more precisely, we and modern apes descended from a common, ape-like ancestor. And I'm proud of how far our species has developed, how far up from the muck we've come, how far towards grace we've climbed; and I hope that our umptity-great grandchildren will be as far above us as we are above the Australopithecines. My opponent the Biblical literalist, on the other hand, seems to hold that we're all the fallen result of incestuous inbreeding from a single original pair of idiots dumb enough to be fooled by a talking snake. I've got to say I find the scientific account not only more rational, but orders of magnitude more inspiring."

Today's Zelda's Inferno exercise: from a deck of phrases, draw a card or two and freewrite. on the phrase "radical self-acceptance":

radical self acceptance, I accept my radical self, the part that wants what it wants at any cost and right now

radical self acceptance, what we need now is a little more radical other acceptance. What the Buddha preached, and maybe Jesus too, was radical all-acceptance.

radical self-acceptance, radical self-acceptance, really what's the alternative? radical self-denial? moderate self-acceptance?

there is no self; accepting and understanding that, is truly radical. Then self acceptance is all-acceptance.

or is the radical self the radical notion of separateness? radical doesn't mean correct, after all. ("radical!" shouts a skate punk in my mind)

Letter to the Editor, Baltimore Sun:

What strange world does Governor O'Malley inhabit, where the state taking flesh from citizens is "noninvasive" ("O'Malley urges DNA collection", February 14, 2008)? Ignoring for the moment the massive privacy concerns that DNA collection raises, there is a much more fundamental issue here: the sovereignty of the state ends at my skin. The government has no legitimate authority to compel citizens who have not been convicted of a crime to undergo any medical procedure, however minor.

Jesus of Nazareth had a pretty good take on the question of how far the legitimate authority of government goes: "Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's; and unto God what is God's." Our bodies may or may not be "temples" of some deity, but they certainly are not Caesar's, for him to demand any amount of flesh from us, for any purpose.

Put down whatever you're doing and go read Tim Kreider's artist's statement for this week's The Pain -- When Will It End?.

Highlights:

But there’s a half-millennium of institutional racism on this continent, and social progress happens slowly and unevenly, person by person. There are still vast, savage swaths of unapologetic bigotry in this country. I spent fifteen years living in a county where there's still an active Klan chapter, where guys in diners or bars will casually drop the old N-bomb early on in a conversation just to test you out, to see if you’re one of them or some “edjumacated idjot.” This wasn’t in darkest Alabama or anything—it was technically within the East Coast megalopolis, between Baltimore and Philadelphia, just off I-95. There are millions of people out there who chuckle over the wit of the nickname “Obama-Osama.” And thanks to the second amendment, they can all have top-of-the-line, high-powered rifles with excellent telescopic sights.

A true story, from my friend Heather:

I've never really thought much of greeting card holidays like Valentines day but when my son was little they made the kids bring Valentines and food/candy to school for a party each year. So, this one particular year, like the good Mom I was, I diligently sat and addressed all of the cards (again) for the kids in his class and baked chocolate cupcakes for the party. Very carefully my son and I frosted the cupcakes and put a little candy heart on top of each one...so pretty...the kind with little messages written on them like "be mine" and stuff like that. As an adult, Valentines day has been nothing but a disappointment to me but I thought kids should do it if that was what the school was doing...etc... And my son wanted to win the heart of a certain little red headed girl with his pretty card and expert baking skills.

Today's Zelda's Inferno exercise: claiming and defining words. Pick a few words from this list we came up with, and write about how they do or don't define you.

poet, criminal, artist, climber, activist, anarchist, transgender, atheist, zen buddhist pagan, beatnik, bouncer, actor, bohemian, mother, caretaker, sojourner, dreamweaver, songwriter, alien, time traveller, healer, patient, pacifist, shaman, soldier, gravedigger, gambler

Somebody asked me the other day, as I sat in the cafe with my laptop in front of me, a disorganized bunch of phrases slowly resolving into a chapter, if I wanted to be a writer.

Want to be? I am, I replied. I write, therefore I am a writer. Subspecies poet, wrangler of words in rhythm, transgressor of boundaries. Sometimes a songwriter, sometimes an actor writing my own lines for a performance piece. A linguistic anarchist, denying the rule of Webster and Oxford: for when I use a word, it means just what I want it to mean, no more, no less.

"Atheist" doesn't say what I am. I says what I'm not: not a theist. It's as descriptive as saying a thing is not orange - well, it might be grey, it might be blue, it might be pink with purple polka-dots, it might be transparent or submicroscopic and thus colorless (what color is an electron?) or rainbow-hued. So, yes, I don't believe in a big daddy in the sky who created the Universe because he was bored or because he wanted a bunch of worshipers or whatever. That doesn't tell you anything about what I do believe.

In this society, everyone is a criminal. No one gets through the month without breaking some law - a traffic law, a tax law, the zoning code, a copyright regulation, whatever. Given some of the laws still on the books in this state, I pity anyone who's not a sex criminal.

So, yes, I freely admit it - I'm a criminal, a law-breaker, and I take no shame in it. I don't let the legislature make decisions for me - though of course I try not to get caught. The state may have no moral authority, but it does have more guns than I do; I try to avoid it like I avoided bullies in elementary school.

if Heisenberg spoke the truth
if just looking can change things,
then
what might we destroy by speaking?

soap bubble moments that float on air
annihilated by a grasping hand

my father and i out in his car
on some errand I can't recall
me, home from college for a little while
becoming my own man -
not necessarily in my father's image

neither of us knowing anymore
who the other was

but "Johnny B Goode" on the radio
and both of us quietly singing along

I've never spoken of that moment
I feel that it would shatter if I asked
if he recalled a song we sang together
a moment when i saw my father
as a man of love, and confusion
and song, and breath
the same as me
I remember and I smile, but do not speak

Promotions at the dojo today...didn't have any students going up, but spend the day helping out. Think I wrenched a muscle in my back, so I've come down to Leadbetter's for some muscle relaxant and some tunes.

Now that the smoking ban is in effect, they have these little card you put on your drink if you go out to suck on the penis of corporate America. It says "Out smoking - Leave my drink alone". Which seems a good phrase for a writing exercise: