The sun’s warm against the slats of the granary,
a puddle of ice in the shadow of the steps;
a bluetick hound lopes
across the winter wheat —
fresh green, cold green.
The windmill, long out of use,
screeches and twists in the wind.
A spring day too loud for talk
when bones tire of their flesh
and want something better.
by Jim Harrison
from The Shape of the Day
Copper Canyon Press, 1998
Jonathan Franzen in The New Yorker:
The Bible is a foundational text in Western literature, ignored at an aspiring writer’s hazard, and when I was younger I had the ambition to read it cover to cover. After breezing through the early stories and slogging through the religious laws, which were at least of sociological interest, I chose to cut myself some slack with Kings and Chronicles, whose lists of patriarchs and their many sons seemed no more necessary to read than a phonebook. With judicious skimming, I made it to the end of Job. But then came the Psalms, and there my ambition foundered. Although a few of the Psalms are memorable (“The Lord is my shepherd”), in the main they’re incredibly repetitive. Again and again the refrain: Life is challenging but God is good. To enjoy the Psalms, to appreciate the nuances of devotion they register, you had to be a believer. You had to love God, which I didn’t. And so I set the book aside.
Only later, when I came to love birds, did I see that my problem with the Psalms hadn’t simply been my lack of belief. A deeper problem was their genre. From the joy I experience, daily, in seeing the goldfinches in my birdbath, or in hearing an agitated wren behind my back fence, I can imagine the joy that a believer finds in God. Joy can be as strong as Everclear or as mild as Coors Light, but it’s never not joy: a blossoming in the heart, a yes to the world, a yes to being alive in it. And so I would expect to be a person on whom a psalm to birds, a written celebration of their glory, has the same kind of effect that a Biblical psalm has on a believer.
More here.
Emilie Lucchesi in Discover:
After a retired speech-language pathologist had a stroke, he struggled to articulate his thoughts, even though he knew what he wanted to say. His wife didn’t understand the source of his difficulties until a clinician showed her a video that explained what her husband wished he could tell her: His stroke caused apraxia. Apraxia is a term used to describe a list of neurological disorders that impact speech, movement or gestures. Clinicians have observed apraxia for centuries, but they still don’t agree on which symptoms belong to which disorder type, and controversy persists.
Apraxia is a term used to describe a series of conditions that make it difficult or impossible for a person to perform a desired movement or gesture. Depending on the person, apraxia can mean they struggle to make facial expressions in response to vocal commands.
More here.
Dan Hitchens in Compact Magazine:
It’s OK,” the title of Bernie Sanders’ new book informs us, “to be angry about capitalism.” But of course, we already knew that. The background noise of our time is of resentment toward the neoliberal order—the insecurity it has foisted on the poor and increasingly on the middle class, the destruction it has wreaked on the environment, its hollowing-out of families, communities, and traditions. What we need isn’t permission to be angry, but a better comprehension of a system so complex that both admirers and critics struggle to get their heads around it.
That, I think, is why more and more readers—from big-name academics like Adam Tooze and Mariana Mazzucato to ordinary citizens trying to make sense of the world—are enthralled by the work of the economic geographer Brett Christophers, a professor at the University of Uppsala. Nobody could accuse Christophers of ignorantly ranting against a half-understood enemy: His books resemble vast excavation projects, in which the author drills through mile after mile of granite-like material—balance sheets, annual reports, parliamentary-committee minutes, documents from the National Infrastructure Commission, and at one point (he writes with a self-deprecating twinkle) a “fascinating if dry 2016 review of taxation of the UK water companies.”
From these subterranean expeditions, Christophers usually emerges with some outrageous claim that seems both shocking and appropriate to our disorienting era. In 2018, he published a book explaining that the largest privatization in modern British history had gone unnoticed. (See if you can guess: The answer is below.) Then, in 2020, Christophers’s Rentier Capitalism argued that the heart of the British economy wasn’t entrepreneurship or innovation or anything like that, but rent: that is, the ability to make money by controlling assets such as land or intellectual property in an uncompetitive environment. Christophers’ new book, meanwhile, states its audacious thesis in the title, Our Lives in Their Portfolios: Why Asset Managers Own the World.
More here.
Allison Parshall in Quanta:
Optimization problems can be tricky, but they make the world work better. These kinds of questions, which strive for the best way of doing something, are absolutely everywhere. Your phone’s GPS calculates the shortest route to your destination. Travel websites search for the cheapest combination of flights that matches your itinerary. And machine learning applications, which learn by analyzing patterns in data, try to present the most accurate and humanlike answers to any given question.
For simple optimization problems, finding the best solution is just a matter of arithmetic. But the real-world questions that interest mathematicians and scientists are rarely simple. In 1847, the French mathematician Augustin-Louis Cauchy was working on a suitably complicated example — astronomical calculations — when he pioneered a common method of optimization now known as gradient descent. Most machine learning programs today rely heavily on the technique, and other fields also use it to analyze data and solve engineering problems.
Mathematicians have been perfecting gradient descent for over 150 years, but last month, a study proved that a basic assumption about the technique may be wrong. “There were just several times where I was surprised, [like] my intuition is broken,” said Ben Grimmer, an applied mathematician at Johns Hopkins University and the study’s sole author. His counterintuitive results showed that gradient descent can work nearly three times faster if it breaks a long-accepted rule for how to find the best answer for a given question.
More here.
Daron Acemoglu, Gary Anderson, David Beede, Catherine Buffington, et. al., in VoxEU:
Rapid advances across a number of technologies, including generative AI, cloud computing and robotics, have raised the hope that productivity growth in the US and other industrialised countries can accelerate. They have also intensified public worries about job displacement and inequality.
Naturally, the macroeconomic effects of any technology will depend on the degree of its adoption. Labour market impacts may additionally depend on whether advanced technologies are being used for automation, displacing workers from the tasks they used to perform, or for other purposes, such as increasing the productivity of workers in tasks they are already performing or creating new tasks for them.
Despite much enthusiasm about these new technologies, many commentators are concerned that their adoption has been slow and uneven. Lack of systematic data on adoption patterns and how new technologies are being used in workplaces has been a major roadblock on developing a holistic picture of whether and how these technologies will impact the economy.
A small literature has used various sources of data on adoption of robotics technology (e.g. Acemoglu et al. 2020, Bonfiglioli et al. 2020, Koch et al. 2021), there are some recent European technology surveys, such as those studied in Genz et al. (2021) for Germany and Calvino et al. (2022) for Italy. But data on cloud computing, AI and other software systems have been more scant, especially in the US.
More here.
Marc David Baer at The Guardian:
On the southern steppe of Ukraine in 512BCE, the envoy of Scythian King Idanthyrsus delivered a frog, a mouse, a bird and several arrows to Darius, mighty king of Persia. Then, without saying a word, he departed. Darius was confident the nomadic Scythians were pledging their allegiance. But his adviser understood the intended meaning. Unless the invading Persians turned into frogs and dived into the water, became mice and dug underground, or turned into birds and flew away, they would be riddled with deadly arrows as trespassers in the nomads’ land. Darius withdrew his soldiers.
For two millennia gigantic imperial armies were unable to defeat much smaller numbers of elusive horse archers who utilised tactics of surprise, feigned retreat and ambush rather than engaging in set-piece battles. In this book, which flows as fast as the nomads’ horses galloped, emeritus professor of ancient history Kenneth Harl chronicles the empires that roamed across the Eurasian steppe from ancient times to the death of Tamerlane at the beginning of the 15th century.
more here.
Molly Young at the NY Times:
Has any man in history loved anything as much as Orson Squire Fowler loved the octagon? Fowler, born in Cohocton, N.Y., in 1809, published a book in 1848 arguing that all houses should be eight-sided. He influenced a (failed) utopian community in Kansas called Octagon City, delivered an estimated 350 public orations on octagon supremacy and built himself a 60-room octagonal palace in upstate New York.
His enthusiasm was not merely contagious but downright virulent. In the decades following the publication of “The Octagon House: A Home for All,” octagonal homes “broke out in New York State like a rash,” as an article in this newspaper put it. So too in the Midwest, which briefly became a hotbed of Fowler-incited dwellings. His résumé is that of a classic 19th-century polymath. Fowler was a sexologist, hydrotherapy proponent, amateur architect, publisher (including of Walt Whitman), phrenologist (chronistically, if unfortunately) and eclectic lecturer who evangelized on behalf of vegetarianism, women’s suffrage, prison reform, dancing and mesmerism.
more here.
Chris Richards in The Washington Post:
If you loved “Munch (Feelin’ U)” — a standout single that I described last year as cold, hard proof that this Bronx rapper “knows exactly how and where to exhale her rhymes into drill music’s sleek architecture, offering a breathy human counterpoint to the alien bass lines, the glitchy hi-hats, the antiseptic synth melodies that tend to hide out in the corner” — here are five more songs where that came from.
More here.
Farzana Shaikh in Time:
Few will have missed the bitter irony of a court ruling against Pakistan’s former Prime Minister, Imran Khan, who was found guilty of corruption, sentenced to three years in prison, and barred from contesting elections for five years. For however his legacy is judged in years to come, Khan will be remembered above all for his single-minded crusade to root out “corruption” from the political fabric of Pakistan. The ruling against Khan was not unexpected. Since his removal from office following a no-confidence motion in April 2022, as well as his increasingly confrontational posture with the military (which he blamed for his downfall), many believed it was only a matter of time before Khan lost his freedom completely.
With Pakistan’s ruling coalition imminently poised to step down and make way for a caretaker government, Khan’s incarceration was seen as the last bit of unfinished business ahead of general elections. These should be held within 90 days but could come as late as Spring 2024, following a decision on August 5, 2023 by the Council of Common Interests (responsible for overseeing relations between Pakistan’s federating units) to approve the demarcation of new constituencies based on the latest census data—a skillful maneuvering tactic by Pakistan’s all-powerful military, which is desperate to use the time to dampen Khan’s soaring popularity.
More here.
From Fabrik:
Here/After The Art is an attempt to elevate a discussion and research the future of art as it has never been done before. We ask creators to produce NFTs that make predictions on the future of art. This project invites diversity across continents and creative disciplines. For example, in addition to visual artists we will also reach out to renowned filmmakers, musicians, and designers to create a vibrant mix of personalities who have a voice in what art has been, is, and especially what it will be. We recognise and appreciate that all this takes place in the age of emerging technologies including AI, NFT, and in the new spaces such as web3, metaverse and the decentralisation of culture.
More here.
Jonathan Losos in The Conversation:
The African wildcat is the ancestor of our beloved household pets. And despite changing very little, their descendants have become among the world’s two most popular companion animals. (Numbers are fuzzy, but the global population of cats and dogs approaches a billion for each.)
Clearly, the few evolutionary changes the domestic cat has made have been the right ones to wangle their way into people’s hearts and homes. How did they do it? I explored this question in my book “The Cat’s Meow: How Cats Evolved from the Savanna to Your Sofa.”
More here.
Tara Isabella Burton in The New Atlantis:
Reality is different these days. It isn’t just that we have the tools to experience reality differently, or augment reality, by affixing a Meta Quest headset or an Apple Vision Pro to our skulls. It isn’t just that we have the ability to quantify reality, through smartwatches and heart rate monitors and step counters and sleep trackers, or that we have the ability to manipulate people’s perceptions of reality, through social media filters so ubiquitous that there is now a whole cottage industry of plastic surgery devoted to making people’s fleshly faces match the selfies they post on Instagram. Nor is it just the fact that our social world includes the conversations we have with virtual personal assistants like Siri and Alexa, whose soothing voices greet us when we come home, or remind us of the weather.
All of these, of course, play some role in the seismic reimaging of our selves, and our world, that the Internet — in particular, smartphone-enabled online culture — has engendered. But the shift we’re experiencing is bigger, and more totalizing, than any single phenomenon.
More here.
…………………………the mystery of your lungs
…………………………the spaceship of your yes
the ethereal of your puns
……….. the eternal of your sexts
……… the chic vivacity
of your spiritual & political & sensual rage
….. the tiny
………… extremely
……. efficient post office
………… of your least wild dreams
…………… the enormous
….. hocus of your trembling pocus
……. the dirt of your muse
the deity of your musk
………………….. why
………………………. haven’t you eaten yet
…… this daily
………………….. breath of yours
come eat
….. this chest magic brain planet
……………………….. this mischief
………………. & power
…………………………………………… this anger
…………………………………………… good anger
…………………………………………… your anger
……………………. from which you sing your most joyful
……………………….. deepest no
by Chen Chen
from Split This Rock
“Streaming” music. Sounds so simple, so peaceful, right? If you’re listening closely, though, you know that contemporary pop is a much choppier body of water, oceanic in its breadth and volume. In little sips and big gulps, I’ll be keeping track of my new faves with the following list of 2023’s best recordings — organized chronologically by release date — and I’ll be updating it continuously throughout the year.