• ghosts in our spaces

    ghosts in our spaces

    Have you heard the theory about spaces? 

    I think formally it is referred to as Third Space Theory, and having just spent some time reading about the background of it I can share that (a) it is a kind of sociological theory of culture and identity that is meant to help us understand our modern society but which may not reflect on other non-western cultures or historical cultures and (b) you should almost certainly read a more reliable source than my meanderingly philosophical blog post if you want to know more.

    But I can simplify it here to make a point.

    And a point about AI, even.

    The theory kinda posits that modern humans in the western world are creatures of multiple spheres of identity and existence: first, second and third spaces—or home, work, and recreation if one wanted to simplify the concept for a meme post like where I first stumbled across this concept before reading more about it.

    The first space is our domestic sphere: where we live, the place where we are part of a family unit, probably where we sleep, maybe where we eat in privacy and away from the public, and a space where we generally spend our quiet, personal moments. This space may be a house or an apartment or just a room to call ones own, but could alsobe something less physical.

    The second space is where we contribute to public life or society. For most people this work or school or public service or a job-slash-career space. Again, this can be a physical space like a building or a worksite, or can be something more transient like a video meeting or a conference in a faraway city or a job interview while wearing a visitor badge in someone else’s second space.

    Then comes the third space, and the theory talks about the variety of these spaces but often we can consider these, simply, spaces of public participation: recreation activities, playing sports, going to the library, attending a church, shopping at a mall, eating at a restaurant with friends. Other spaces not home or work and spaces where we can relax, socialize, and be our authentic selves for the purpose of playing and enjoying our lives.

    The theory also leans into some ideas about value of these spaces, particularly the third space, on the health and wellbeing of not only us as individuals but of society as a whole. Society, you ask? Well, according to the theory, but where else in the public sphere can we as individuals plot our dissent and dissatisfaction with the state of our society and work to communicate ways to improve it—or perhaps overthrow those who are seeking to oppress it? These theories always have a serious side, don’t they?

    But perhaps I digress. I was getting to AI, wasn’t I?

    So, consider for a moment what has happened to these spaces in the last few years. 

    Consider, for example, what happened to the second space of so many office workers during the pandemic: work from home became a collapse of the second space into the first space for many, myself included. My kitchen was suddenly my office, and I was staring through a digital window into the living rooms, basements, and (yes, really) messy bedrooms of many people I formerly only knew as nine-to-five office people. Many have only slightly decoupled this collapse since, and a lot more have remained (sometimes stubbornly oblivious to the downsides) still living in this blurring of first and second spaces for half a decade.

    And now consider what has happened to many third spaces in the last few years: libraries have lost funding, malls have gone bankrupt, the price of admission to public facilities has either gone up or simply been privatized and gated and thus become a barrier to entry for many and all the while many third spaces have just generally been usurped by the so-called digital town square of social media, or online shopping, or multiplayer video gaming, food delivery apps, or even unidirectional media platforms streaming content into our screens.

    To recap: the first and second spaces have collapsed and blurred together, and too the third space has become limited or completely virtualized as a collection of apps for others and consumed from the couch while sitting around that same blurry first-meets-second space.

    And all that might be manageable if one sad fact about those virtual third spaces wasn’t also simultaneously true: that more and more the participants we meet inside that third space are not other human beings but rather AI algorithms, bots and chat agents and tour guides to this artificial public sphere where we are supposed to exist for the sake of forging and maintaining a healthy society.

    What is the impact of that to not just our personal health, but to the strength of our political and social structures?

    On the one hand, AI is not necessarily to blame for our whole cloth migration into the virtual or our physical abandonment of second and third spaces, but at the same time it has likely eased the transition and gobbled up our willpower to go back to how things used to be when we had three fulsome spaces and all those spaces were populated by real people, for better or worse. And I suppose one could ask: does it even matter if the end state of all this is that enough people blur all three spaces into a single digital virtual sphere populated by artificial intelligences? Maybe that’s just what some people prefer, the health of themselves and a broader society be damned.

    But that’s just a theory.

  • merrily along, two

    merrily along, two

    The internets are full of crazy these days—and if it isn’t flat out nuts, it has probably been generated by an AI chatbot—so here is a few more good news, good vibe, life isn’t all wrinkly grapes reports from my week.

    My positives this past week were…

    The weather cooperated enough that I was able to mash up a few great summertime activities, turning on some tunes on the deck with the pergola shade up and writing out in the backyard instead of a cafe. The dog sat in the grass looking super contented and I got some vibes out my back door.

    It’s berry season, and my garden is full of fruit-bearing bushes and trees. Need I write more? Saskatoons, raspberries, haskaps, and soon—very soon—a tree bursting with juicy plums are just a picking away.

    I mentioned that the Kid got a summer job, but then a couple weeks later got her first paycheque and if there was ever an example of unfiltered joy through a text message, she sent me a dozen of them that morning. And then I think she stopped and bought herself a treat to celebrate.

    I’ve mentioned in other posts that I bought myself a gym membership to the local recreation centre. Some might not look at this as anything but a kind of fitness burden that they have taken on, but having access to some drop in classes and, yeah, the swimming pool is a definite mood boosting positive addition to my days.

    I have been mucking around with electronic music on my various devices, and have reached what I’m calling the curration stage—that’s the point where I am feeling done with just mucking around and am organizing things for a more learning-centric approach to the tools. It’s hard to explain without diving trench-deep into the details, but basically I’ve been weeding and pruning my toys so that I have a cleaner slate to do more experimentation-type stuff with sounds. 

    We have been more conscious about buying “Canadian” stuff lately, reorienting our spending, and have been finding lots of treasures in the form of better coffees, better beers, better fruit, and even better vibes.

    We were able to make a full salad last night for dinner from just stuff that came out of the garden in our backyard. Lettuce, beets, berries! Yum.

    We went for lunch in the Highlands neighbourhood this past weekend and I ate one of the best burgers I’ve had in a year atop the rooftop patio of a little place over there. Add to that a tasty sour beer and garlic fries and it was a divine meal worth reporting here again.

  • head over feets, two

    head over feets, two

    Apart from a few sweltering days, the weather has been mostly cooperative for some good outdoors summer adventure. Of course, my return to the pool has meant that I have exerted quite a bit of that sweat equity back into a refreshing laps at the local pool where my rec pass is grinding out the milage.

    The last few days I logged…

    After swimming on Tuesday morning, I got it into my head that I should go back later that afternoon to reaquaint myself with the strength equipment at the gym. Mid-afternoon in the summer holiday season was not ideal for this, but I did get a full lap of sets done while tripping over the hoards of gym-rat boys hogging the equipment and taking selfies. But after sufficient reps I came up with a kind of quantitative measure for overall effort distilled as a single number—y’know, for my spreadsheet—that summarizes how much strength work I did. It’s not magic, but it gives me something to chart.

    The heat subsided on briefly on Wednesday evening and that brought out a respectable crew to the run club at the store.  Our regular group leader was sick, so I helped pinch hit and led the front of the group while KB, the manager took over and pushed from the back. She was tapering for a fifty miler this weekend, so didn’t want to be pushing it near the head even just for a seven klick run around the neighbourhood.

    I was back at the pool the next morning, dutifully doubling my distance over my introductory session just two days prior. That was almost off the table entirly because even as I was crawling into bed the night before my arms were raging with exertion pains and I had to take something even just to get comfortable to sleep—which I did, and felt well enough to log five hundred meters worth of laps Thursday morning before coffee.

    I here use the words “guilted” and “motivated” interchangably. Either one, I found myself organizing our regular Thursday evening running adventure, sans adventure, with just a regular meetup at the Mill Creek starting point. Most of the crew was getting ready for a road trip down south to the S7 Ultramarathon so anything too extreme and ankle-twisting was off the table. 

    I rested until Sunday morning and when no one else showed up for our standard run, I swapped my track shorts for swim trunks and logged yet another increment upwards in my watery distances.  I have been building with the goal of hitting a respectable time & distance combination that makes a punch on the swim pass card worthwhile, and right now 800m in a little under 25 minutes seems to fit the bill.

    I repeated that swimming distance this morning, Tuesday, and my goal for the day is an exercise triathlon: I swam this morning, biked to the cafe to write this post, and will go for a run later this morning. Details on that to follow.

  • weekend wrap, ten

    weekend wrap, ten

    I spent this past weekend either prone on the couch entering a vegetative state whilst playing video games, or scouting out the north side of the city for various barely-connected reasons. The weather was hot enough to be uncomfortable, but not so hot to be an excuse, and the smattering of rain here and there only helped me avoid mowing the lawn and feel guilty about spending time in front of the screens.

    All that laziness aside, we did accomplish a few things this past weekend…

    After a chill Friday evening, Saturday picked up considerably.

    The Kid had a party to go to across town, so we dropped her off and headed up to the north side, a part of town we only rarely visit and only rarely because it is just a pain to drive all over town when the only big difference is the names on the restaurants. But we were over there, so we went for burgers at a place called Fox Burger up in the Highlands and sat out on the rooftop patio sipping beers and enjoying the sun.

    A little stroll around the area brought us back to where we had parked and then we made a kind of backwards trek to our own party to hang out with friends who were having a board game gathering.

    That was short-lived however, and we only stayed long enough to play one round of a mediocre and what seemed to be a pretty unbalanced chaos game called Dragon and Flagon—which I lost miserably at, which may have clouded my impressions.

    We skipped out before they ordered dinner and went back home to spend some quality time with the dog before we were off again to the theatre. The touring production of The Lion King was in town and we have had tickets for about a year—and Saturday was the night.

    After the show we took another meandering detour to the northside, skirting around a literal detour on the bridge where the cops had it shut down with a “forensics” investigation—ugh—and picked up the Kid from her party before she turned into a pumpkin at midnight.

    Sunday morning a got a little shafted running again. Everyone was off in the mountains doing or working the big Sinister 7 ultramarathon, so it was either run solo again or change into my swimming gear and do laps. I chose the latter.

    After drying off and scarfing some lunch we went shopping for clothes. I have been stumbling into some professional efforts lately and needed some fresh work-appropriate threads. This took us on an adventure to West Edmonton Mall where I found a great pair of dress pants but the colour I wanted was in the wrong size and the size I wanted was in the wrong colour. Back to the northside we went where the store staff had checked inventory and sent us up to Londonderry Mall, the mall that time forgot, where my new digs were waiting.

    The Kid and I took a pair of dogs for a walk, one of them being ours and the other being a favour.

    Then we cooked a nice bit of salmon for dinner on the barbecue and settled back in for the evening.

    Not bad for a lazy weekend in July.

  • reviews: wet hot summer

    reviews: wet hot summer

    Maybe I’m solar powered. I certainly feel like I have a lot more energy these last couple of months with the sun out and my motivation levels surging. I’ve been reading a lot and listening a lot and enjoying interesting shows on the teevee. I can’t be bothered to write a review of every bit of media I touch, but I have had some thoughts about a couple of things.

    Recently I’ve been enjoying and thinking about:

    audiobook: anathem

    Neal Stephenson’s 2008 reality-bending science fiction novel Anathem is, I will admit, an acquired taste. The phone-book thick tome is filled with huge ideas wrapped in multi-dimensional physics shaped by a parallel (and some—not me—would argue needlessly strange) vocabulary that darn-near requires a glossary to translate. I love it. I might even call it my favourite book. It would make a terrible movie because the best thing about the story is the internal monologue of the narrator and main character expositioning the world as he sheds a veil of naivity on his quest to participate in a dimension-spanning quest to save the world. I have listened to this book—yes, listened—no fewer than fifteen times. And I have done so because almost as great as the story and the concept and the implementation by Stephenson is the narration in the audiobook by William Dufris, who—I was yesterday years old when I learned from a social media post—apparently passed away in early 2020. I am almost embarrassed to admit that I just learned this fact, that a man who’s voice has been in my ears for likely over five hundred hours of audiobook enjoyment spanning nearly two decades of repeated listening, has been gone for over five years. Dufris had a unique voice, and maybe it struck me as so profoundly personal because at the same time I was discovering the joys of repeated listening to the Anathem audiobook around about 2010, the Kid was three years old and mainlining that goofy kid’s show Bob the Builder, whose title character was voiced by—you guessed it—William Dufris. We live in an oddly complex time, when some of the people we come to feel a kind of respect and affection for are people who are neither the people we know in real life or can likely be known with any greater depth than by the simple contributions they make in their arts. I didn’t know Mr. Dufris, but as I wrote above, I have been settling into my quiet moments of headphones-in personal entertainment with his voice in my head for a third of my life. I didn’t know him, and he didn’t know me, and he was just doing his job, which was to entertain and bring words on the page to life as characters with voices and vibes—and he seemingly did this so well that he is probably one of three voice actors I could name without the aid of a search engine. If you never listened to any of this work, do yourself a favour and look up the Anathem audiobook—or if you’re not into crazy complex sci-fi, just go download some Bob the Builder. It’s all great.

    film: deep cover

    It may have preluded much of my recent writing here, but the Kid spent a good chunk of her high school career in the improv theatre club. To be honest, I was never much of a fan. I’m a deep narrative guy. I like complex plots and clever stories and big ideas brought to life in meaningful ways that make you think, and my handful of experiences being dragged to improv nights for work events or hitting up shows at the local Fringe festival were always a middling, yeah—ok—sure.  But then, of course, it becomes the passion of your only child and next thing you know you are going to home shows and watching live streams of the high school improv games and buying tickets to local shows because “I’ll never turn down an improv ticket” she tells you when you offer.  On of Karin’s coworkers knew of our family’s recent dabblings in the improv theatre world and recommended we check out Deep Cover.  You can look up more elaborate details about the cast and plot elsewhere, but here is the gist: a trio of stuggling improv comedy actors (played by Howard, Bloom, and Mohammed) are recurited by an undercover police detective (played by Sean Bean) into a some light police sting work, and fumble, bumble, and over-act their way into deep inflitration of a major underworld drug smuggling ring. Hijinks ensue. British humour abounds. Of course, the Kid watched the whole thing with us (which if you are responsible for a teenager these days you know that getting one to focus on a single screen for the duration of a movie is a feat in an of itself) and routinely quipped about how “this is going to be my life in three years, just watch!” The story is funny enough to grip but the bigger message hidden in the comedy may be simply a commentary on how we undervalue certain skills. I mean, I don’t want to overthink it here: the story is a romp and a laugh, but at the heart of it is a tale of three people who were able to make it big and get criminally rich using their skills for a kind of misguided accidental evil, while at the same time those skills were viewed with a kind of societal pity when they tried to use them for good things, like to enterain others. Or, maybe its just a cautionary tale for improv actors everywhere: that the whole world is a stage after all.

about

Welcome. I’m one of those weirdos who still writes a personal blog. In fact, I’ve been writing meandering drivel online for decades, and here you’ll find all my recent posts on writing, technology, art, food, adventure, running, travel, and overthinking just about anything and everything …since early 2021.

I write regularly from here in the Canadian Prairies about just about anything that interest me. Enjoy!

There are currently 449,420 words in 589 posts.

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