Phases of iPhone Death

I dropped my iPhone this morning — into the toilet. Don't worry: the water was clean. Well, as clean as toilet water can be. I pulled it out immediately, and tried in vain to turn it off.

1. The water made it impossible to use the touchscreen. I pawed at the "Slide to power off" bar for a few frantic seconds before giving up.
2. The screen quickly donned some pixelated version of the multicolored empty-TV-station livery. Not good.
3. The colored pixels all went black, and rather slowly. It was like watching the phone's soul extricate itself from its metal chassis and sojourn back to the great Jobs In The Sky.
4. I laid the phone on top of a baseboard heater to encourage evaporation. The screen was still backlit, but showed only black. I went away dejected.
5. Roughly ten minutes later I came back, and the phone had booted up. I attempted to open Safari, but the touchscreen freaked out: Instead of loading Safari, I wound up calling my friend Paul. I hard reset the phone before the call could complete.
6. The phone rebooted and asked me to plug it into iTunes, or "Slide for emergency". Fearing the caprices of a sporadic touchscreen, I attempted to power down (again) by holding Home and the Power key. I don't mind calling Paul on an early Sunday, but I'd rather not have to explain my situation to EMS.
7. After powering down for a moment, the phone booted spontaneously. It told me that it had been freshly activated, and started like normal. The touchscreen failed to respond.
8. I turned it off, and it began a cyclic binge of rebooting and dying — all on its own. I went away dejected, again.
9. After church, I came back to a phone that appeared to be fully functional — with the glaring exception that the touchscreen didn't work.

And thus my phone sits, encased in the dysfunctional ice of the 9^th circle of iPhone Hell. Lame.

Daily Dose of Infixes

In some of today's random Facebook correspondence, I was struck by the following singular-to-plural conversion:

passerby becomes passersby

Aha - an English infix! Most people are familiar with prefixes and suffixes, but the infix is a rare construction in English (and presumably rare in most of the languages English-speaking students study, since so few English speakers seem to know about them).

30 seconds of Google use uncovered "spoonsful" and "cupsful" as companions of "passersby" — can anyone think of others?

Election Thoughts

Not mine, but one of my close associates:

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Dignity

Another gem from Bob Dylan's Tell Tale Signs:

Fat man looking in a shining steel
Thin man looking at his last meal
Hollow man looking in a cotton field
For dignity

Wise man looking at a blade of grass
Young man looking in the shadows that pass
Poor man looking through painted glass
For dignity

Somebody got murdered on new year's eve
Somebody said dignity was the last to leave
Went into the cities, went into the towns
In the land of the midnight sun

Searching high, searching low
Searching everywhere I know
Asking the cops wherever I go,
"Have you seen dignity?"

Blind man breaking out of a trance
Puts both his hands into the pockets of chance
Hoping to find the one circumstance
Of dignity

Stranger stares down into the light
From a platinum window in the Mexican night
Searching every blood-sucking thing in sight
For dignity

I went down where the vultures feed
Would have gone deeper, but there wasn't any need
Heard the tongues of the angels and the tongues of men
It all sounded no different to me

Soul of a nation is under the knife
Death is standing in the doorway of life
In the next room, a man fighting with his wife
Over dignity

This alternate version speaks more to me than its two companions. It sets down the foundation of many major issues, placing as book-ends two powerfully linked verses. All of the yearning and hopelessness of the middle verses pale in comparison to the last four lines, yet each situation describes people searching for that quintessential thing which they lack. These are the fatherless, the widow, the sojourner; these we dare not neglect.

Death is standing in the doorway of life.

Tell Tale Truths

I just received Bob Dylan's Tell Tale Signs in the mail.

It's a delightful collection of rare and unreleased tracks from recent years.  The most rewarding gem so far is an expanded version of one of my favorite songs: Can't Wait.

Contemplate these words — only a snippet of the full lyrics, mind you — and think on how true they are to the human experience.

Skies are grey, I'm looking for anything that will bring a happy glow
Night or day, it doesn't matter where I go anymore; I just go
If I ever saw you coming I don't know what I would do
I'd like to think I could control myself, but it isn't true
That's how it is when things disintegrate
And I don't know how much longer I can wait

What do you run after to find a "happy glow"?

Ulysses

ULYSSES

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
that loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vexed the dim sea. I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known---cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honored of them all---
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades
Forever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end.
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains; but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, my own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the scepter and the isle---
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill
This labor, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centered in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me---
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads---you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honor and his toil.
Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends.
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be that we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are---
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

1842

Three Draughts of Death

Wine from the Epic of Gilgamesh:

Gilgamesh, where are you hurrying to?
You will never find the life for which you are looking.
When the gods created man
they alloted to him death,
but life they retained in their own keeping.
As for you, Gilgamesh,
fill your belly with good things;
day and night, night and day, dance and be merry,
feast and rejoice.
Let your clothes be fresh,
bathe yourself in water,
cherish the little child that holds your hand,
and make your wife happy in your embrace;
for this too is the lot of man.

Water from Marcus Aurelius' Meditations:

Do not act as if thou wert going to live ten thousand years. Death hangs over thee. While thou livest, while it is in thy power, be good.

Blood from Plato's Apology:

[N]either in war nor yet at law ought any man to use every way of escaping death. For often in battle there is no doubt that if a man will throw away his arms, and fall on his knees before his pursuers, he may escape death; and in other dangers there are other ways of escaping death, if a man is willing to say and do anything. The difficulty, my friends, is not in avoiding death, but in avoiding unrighteousness; for that runs faster than death. I am old and move slowly, and the slower runner has overtaken me, and my accusers are keen and quick, and the faster runner, who is unrighteousness, has overtaken then. And now I depart hence condemned by you to suffer the penalty of death, and they, too, go their ways condemned by the truth to suffer the penalty of villainy and wrong; and I must abide by my award—let them abide by theirs.

An Apology

I must issue a preemptive apology (I term it preemptive because I know that no one reads this blog yet). My last post, while interesting to a small subset of the world, was of a subject and manner which I intend to avoid in general. While I may indulge in the occasional mathematical vomit, I hope to make the vast majority of my posts more interesting to the people whom I hope will be reading them.

I would write something interesting now, but Jessica is biting me. Yes, you read that correctly.

Hello, world.

irb:001:0> def y(&f)
irb:002:1>   lambda {|x| x[x]}[
irb:003:2*     lambda {|yf|
irb:004:3*       lambda {|*args| f[yf[yf]][*args]}
irb:005:3>     }
irb:006:2>   ]
irb:007:1> end

irb:008:0> fac = lambda {|n|
irb:009:1*         y {|r|
irb:010:2*           lambda {|x,acc|
irb:011:3*             x == 0 ? acc : r[x-1, x*acc]
irb:012:3>           }
irb:013:2>         }[n, 1]
irb:014:1>       }

irb:015:0> fac[5]
=> 120