tripu

Si yo tenía dudas acerca de la conveniencia o no de un colegio profesional de ingenieros en informática, los del CPIIA se están ocupando de despejarlas rápidamente con sus ridiculeces:

«Ultrajante campaña publicitaria de Sun Microsystems»

(No va en serio, ¿verdad? Decidme que es una gracia…)

When? Fri 9 – Mon 12, Oct 2009.
Where? CSOA Patio Maravillas (Malasaña, Madrid).
Who? these people, for the moment.
What? FOSS, dreadlocks, net neutrality, Debian folks, film sessions, cryptography, tetrahydrocannabinol, political hackivism, squatters, NLP, leftism, copyfight, stray dogs, lounges, modded devices and more.
How much? €0.

I attended Madhack back in 2002 (when Labo03 in Lavapiés still existed) and it was definitely worth it. Not only did they put together a great set of talks and workshops (I remember especially txipi talking about Linux kernel hacks, a teenager dissecting security in FreeBSD and a fascinating talk about the lysergic counterculture of the 60′s in California) but the atmosphere was friendly and relaxed, and there were lots of different topics and initiatives going on all the time. Those were also The Days Of The LSSI (do you remember that?), and one day we all took Lavapiés on a colourful demonstration against the new law.

On the other hand, I also remember the somewhat chaotic organisation, the lack of salubrity in the Labo03 and the absence of toilets and showers for those who, like me and my friend, were sleeping in the squat (ironically, it was a nearby branch of El Corte Inglés and some other hateful capitalist corporations that provided the basics of health care and hygiene for me during the Madhack 2002).

Judging by the number of participants so far and the list of “nodes”, i.e. talks, this edition seems smaller and less ambitious. Still, I plan to be around Friday and part of Saturday.

If you’ll be there too, tweet up to tweetup.

Una muestra más de las actitudes machistas que aún pululan por ahí, y que atribuyen a las mujeres, de forma paternalista, un carácter fundamentalmente emocional y débil, relegando su competencia profesional y su independencia a un segundo plano. Un enfoque esencialista según el cual las mujeres, por ser mujeres, son inseguras y necesitan de afectos en el lugar de trabajo, víctimas de un ideal romántico de dependencia (fuentes y enlaces más abajo):

«Las mujeres, por miedo a no ser queridas viven en la impostura, un modelo de comportamiento femenino que tiene como objetivo adaptarse a las distintas exigencias para evitar el rechazo.»

«La forma femenina de estar en el mundo está marcada por el miedo a no ser queridas, y este miedo a no ser aceptadas convierte a las mujeres en sumisas, les impide demostrar su talento y provoca una actitud que envía al entorno un mensaje de búsqueda de protección, se infantilizan.»

«Se ha llamado el Síndrome de Maripili a las actitudes no conscientes de sabotaje que tienen las mujeres y son la consecuencia del miedo a no ser queridas.»

…solo que estas citas están extraídas de una fuente poco sospechosa de machismo (en principio): la web Liderazgo Femenino (no encuentro información sobre qué institución está detrás), ligada al I Congreso Internacional de Liderazgo Femenino, que tuvo lugar hace pocos días en Barcelona.

Cualquier intento por eliminar discriminaciones a la hora de contratar mujeres y por llevar los salarios medios femeninos al mismo nivel que los de los hombres es muy loable. Esta web, y el congreso que han organizado, persiguen esos objetivos. Por eso les doy la enhorabuena. Pero a veces me da la impresión de que con «ayudas» como estas las mujeres no necesitan enemigos.

Llevo un año haciendo estudios culturales, aprendiendo cómo se aprende acerca de la cultura. Me han hablado de cultura popular, cultura de masas, contracultura y Cultura con mayúscula. He leído acerca de culturas hegemónicas, minoritarias, mestizas e híbridas; manipulación cultural, teorías y escuelas diversas, distintas interpretaciones. Hemos leído artículos sobre la cultura homosexual en EEUU, sobre el reduccionismo que asimila las culturas de Asia Oriental a un puñado de estereotipos, sobre grupos que se identifican con la cultura popular audiovisual japonesa, sobre las connotaciones culturales de ciertos códigos de conducta sexual y de relaciones afectivas entre las personas…

Y sin embargo, ninguno de los artículos que he leído mencionaba siquiera «la cultura de los hombres» ni «la cultura femenina».

…hasta que Liderazgo Femenino ha descubierto que las diferencias entre hombres y mujeres en el entorno laboral se deben a un choque entre dos culturas diferentes, nada menos:

«Las mujeres somos una cultura diferenciada [sic] y por ello tenemos una manera de ver y una manera de no ver [sic] y unos miedos incorporados a esas percepciones. Las mujeres nos colocamos en el mundo con miedo a no ser queridas, con miedo a no ser aceptas [sic] y para tratar de evitar el rechazo impostamos nuestra identidad, nuestros deseos, nuestra voz.»

Pero, por encima de todo, que quede claro que la línea de Liderazgo Femenino no es machista:

«El liderazgo femenino aparece cuando nos autorizamos a vivir según nuestra identidad, al margen de los estereotipos. Y es entonces cuando encontramos este sereno poder, somos poderosamente femeninas y creamos entornos de respeto.»

Lo dicho: con estas ayudas…

Hoy he tropezado con esto:

«Si para ellos no existe un Dios , ¿como pueden vivir esos ateos? Mas racional que ellos me parecen (y se que es un mal ejemplo) los que dicen que Jesús e extraterrestre o que afirman adorar al señor de las tinieblas, y es que para los ateos la vida no debe de tener ningún objetivo, ninguna batalla merece ser peleada (para los ateos, claro esta), de que servirá todo lo que se vive, si nuestra existencia tiene limite temporal, a diferencia de la mayoría de las religiones que afirman existe una especie de vida eterna.»

— Timur

y ha hecho que me acuerde de esto:

“The Resistance” is here and apparently even before the official release in Europe (yesterday) some Burak Çalık had already set up a neat web site from which you can download Muse’s new album via RapidShare.

As an appetiser (and while you download the archive) check out this live performance of an established classic, “Starlight” (can’t get enough of it), followed by one of the most interesting tracks from “The Resistance”: “Undisclosed Desires” (skip to 4:12 for the new song if you’re in a hurry).

“Tokyo”
by +joanjimenez
via @Xirick

Génesis es una novela corta de ficción científica de Bernard Beckett, un autor neozelandés poco conocido, publicada originalmente en 2006.

Un par de guerras mundiales (nuevas) y varias pandemias (pandemias de las de verdad, no de estas que hay ahora) han azotado el globo. Platón, un magnate metido a salvador de la raza humana, se recluye en el archipiélago que llaman «la República» y consigue mantener a su sociedad de diseño aislada del resto del mundo mediante la construcción de la Gran Valla Marina. La República parece ser el último estado a salvo en la Tierra. Los pocos zombis infectados que consiguen llegar por mar hasta la Gran Valla son eliminados. En la República, la humanidad se ha reorganizado y aparentemente ha conseguido un equilibrio pacífico. La Academia es el organismo que dirige esta sociedad.

En ese contexto, una joven opositora estudiante, Anaximandro (sic), discípula del filósofo Pericles, se presenta al riguroso examen de ingreso en la Academia. El tribunal está compuesto por tres funcionarios Examinadores que la interrogan acerca del tema en el que se ha especializado: la vida de Adán Forde, un personaje clave en la historia de la República. La novela arranca cuando Anaximandro (Anax para los amigos) se presenta ante el tribunal, y termina cuando lo hace el examen.

La historia mezcla varios temas, y lo que los une a todos es un tono filosófico y metafísico sobre el devenir de la humanidad, la evolución, la tecnología y la sociedad, que a mí me ha parecido interesante. Durante su examen, Anax recrea con detalle un test de Turing (aunque no se le da ese nombre) que resulta bastante entretenido; una batalla intelectual (pero también emocional) entre Adán Forde y una máquina, a base de lógica aplastante y puyazos resentidos hombre-máquina. También se menciona el experimento de la habitación china.

Se puede considerar una novela en tiempo real: el examen de ingreso de Anax en la Academia dura cinco horas (con descansos), y el libro se lee más o menos en ese tiempo (quizá con descansos). Son 158 páginas de letra gorda. Y quien no sea tan lento como yo leyendo literatura seguramente tardará bastante menos.

No está mal la novelita. Te mantiene enganchado y se resuelve con sorpresa, aunque también con simpleza, y además toca de refilón temas que podrían dar más de sí: el apocalipsis, una sociedad de vigilancia y control y además estratificada (“Nineteen eighty-four” meets “Brave new world”), la IA, la esencia del Hombre y de la conciencia… Lo de reciclar nombres de filósofos e instituciones de la Grecia clásica en este contexto futurista no termino de entenderlo bien; supongo que son alegorías e ironías jugosas, pero como estoy pegado en Grecia, me lo pierdo.

Como nota curiosa, en este libro la traductora, Gemma Rovira Ortega, propone la primera traducción al español que yo haya visto del acrónimo inglés SNAFU: «SINOMEPATO» :¬)

Aviso que el artículo de la Wikipedia (en inglés) cuenta la trama con espóilers y lo desvela todo.

Sigo con mi racha de leer libros regalados o prestados (este me lo pasó mi tío). Y al igual que me pasa cada vez que me pongo con libros pendientes, me pregunto dónde está el equilibrio entre leer lo que los demás te recomiendan o proporcionan y lo que a ti realmente te apetece. A raíz de eso, tres preguntas al aire relativas a the pila:

1. ¿Os medio forzáis a leer los libros que os regalan o prestan, aunque algunos os interesen sólo regular?
2. En caso afirmativo, ¿dais abasto para leer esos, más los que vosotros elegís?
3. Y finalmente, ¿aplicáis algún algoritmo para decidir el próximo libro a leer de entre los regalados? En otras palabras, ¿FIFO o LIFO?

a friend of mine (a book-lover, one of the most admirable bookworms I know) gave this book to me as a present last year. We both love London, we both prefer to read English books in English, and she knows me well enough to anticipate that I would like this novel by Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere.

I confess I hadn’t read anything by Neil Gaiman before, but the name sounded familiar to me. And, as in so many other occasions, once you find out a little bit on the interwebs and mention the name to a friend or two and let your friends talk to you about the guy, you end up wondering how it’s possible that you didn’t know him.

I reckon most of the (three) readers of this blog don’t need an introduction, but let me just say that Gaiman is known for his writing of the acclaimed comic book series Sandman, and for other novels such as American Gods. Although you would be forgiven to think that his actual job is to collect impressive awards (Hugo and Nebula among many others). Even if you’re not familiar with his books, you may have watched some of his work: he wrote Coraline, upon which the screenplay for the eponymous film was based, and, most importantly, he wrote the screenplay of a little marvel that was too quickly forgotten: Beowulf. Oh, and he also wrote the dialogues for the version of Princess Mononoke that was screened in English-speaking countries. He has a blog since 2001, he is on Twitter, he possesses a beautiful, beautiful private library, and yet another library (you can zoom in to read every title on the shelves), he has given some long interviews and, to top it all, he is definitely much better than Chuck Norris.

Enough said about Mr Gaiman and his enormous talent.

Thirteen years ago Gaiman wrote Nevewhere, a TV series for the BBC. A bit later, and not feeling entirely happy with the many bits that he had to alter or prune during the shooting of the series, he would rework the screenplay and publish it as a 370-page novel. You can watch the whole series (six episodes) on YouTube (but I recommend you to save it for after you read the book).

But I mentioned London. What does London have to do with this story?

This fantasy novel is set in two Londons: London Above (the one you’ve seen: Big Ben, black cabs, bad weather, noisy tourists, gorgeous parks); and London Below (a magical, dark place under the surface where the disenfranchised fall; a world linked to London overground by tunnels and sewers, abandoned tube stations and hidden doors).

You will make the most of the novel only if you have lived in the city, or if you know the city at least a bit. There are lots of references to real areas, streets and landmarks, and underground lines and stations: Trafalgar Sq, Tate Modern, the City, Battersea, Centre Point, the ubiquitous off-licences and the curry houses… When the characters walk in London Above, you can follow them from Leicester Sq through Soho (“where the tawdry and the chic sit side by side, to the benefit of both”) and Old Compton St. And when they walk from Brewer St to Piccadilly, they stop to stare for a moment at the articles on display at the Vintage Magazine Shop. I have wandered around that shop quite a few times.

There are also nice references to the names of tube stations. There is an Earl, with his court, in Earl’s Court. There are black friars. Knightsbridge is actually a misspelling of the Night’s Bridge. One of the main characters is called Islington, and it is an Angel. We get to know one of the Seven Sisters. And so forth.

I was already enjoying all these references and word plays, when I read this about Richard Mayhew, the protagonist: “Richard’s offices were on the third floor of a big, old, rather draughty building, just off the Strand”. I stopped and re-read that sentence twice. During my last year in London, I worked at 80 Strand — my company was renting half of the third floor of a very large, old building on the Strand. But wait, I thought; it could be any of the other big, old buildings on that side of the road, or even on the other side. Then, towards the end of the story, Richard “walked over to the window, and sipped his tea, staring out at the dirty brown river” and I could discard all the buildings on the North side of the Strand. I could picture Richard perfectly, taking a break from work to stare at the Thames and the South Bank from that privileged position, as I myself had done so many times.

Gaiman writes concise, elegant and accurate. Also tender and funny. I had to laugh out loud a few times when I was reading it, specially with Mr Croup and Mr Vandemar.

It seems to me that Neil Gaiman would be perfectly capable of telling the same story indulging in a profusion of details and stretching some dramatic effects, but that he actually writes too well to fall into that trap. Of course, being a fantasy novel, the characters are not realistic, and there is magic, and sometimes a thin smell of deus ex machina floating around. Because of that, I think that you can’t engage with the story fully, on the same level you would with a historic novel, for instance. But it is interesting to note that Richard, the young Scot working in London who falls through the cracks to London Below, provides a useful counterpoint: he is sceptic and ironic about what is happening to him, he is easily scared, weak, wants to go back home. That makes him the more likeable to the reader, who can easily relate to him.

I wished there were better descriptions of the places in London Below, because sometimes I wasn’t sure what places looked like, the shape and size of tunnels, buildings, bridges and roads. I don’t even know if there is a sky above London Below or not; sometimes Richard and his companions walk in a direction that doesn’t seem plausible, and they end up in places you wouldn’t expect. Some features of London appear also in London Below (Harrods, the HMS Belfast), but because the “topology” of the “double city” is not clear, I didn’t understand if those landmarks are mirrored, or if the inhabitants of London Below come up to London Above and take them at night. It is a bit Escherian, I guess. But that might be on purpose.

The characters I liked the most are Mr Croup and Mr Vandemar, a couple of sadistic assassins, two refined torturers, funny psychopaths. They fit in the archetype of the short, cunning, talkative guy and his huge, violent dumb companion. Mr Croup loves words and talks in the manner of an old-fashioned gentleman, although his ideas are less candid (“The police? Alas, we cannot claim that felicity. A career in law and order, although indubitably enticing, was not inscribed on the cards Dame Fortuna dealt my brother and me.”). Mr Vandemar eats anything that has, or that once had, flesh or fur, and is immune to the suffering of the others. You have to love them from the first pages. Today I skipped through the first episode on YouTube because I was curious about how these two guys had been portrayed originally on TV. I recommend you not to do that until you’ve read the book — the image of them that gradually appears in your mind as you read the novel is probably far scarier and more complex than the image they have on screen (and that’s a good thing about the brief descriptions, I guess).

Definitely recommended (although, as I said, part of the appeal depends on knowing London and some of its layers).

There are things in this world which purpose or destiny is easy for anyone to distil: wheels, coal, surgeons, fear — you know what they are for. And there are other things that just are, and their utility rejects comprehension. Love, ageing, civil servants. Man.

If one were forced to classify art in general, and films in particular, into one of these two categories, I guess the second bucket would clank loud.

What do you watch films for? Forget right now about documentaries, cheap scary movies and light-hearted irrelevant comedies: documentaries serve the same purpose as magazines, and the latter two are a ride in the amusement park. What do you watch films for?

Why would you pay to watch a film so clumsy (or so honest) that spares all the polite ellipses, and instead lets you watch with eyes wide open, like a rabbit helplessly startled by the lights of the car that is just about to run over it? Why would you pay for a film with just two actors in it, barely three or four locations and a plot that can be summarised in two sentences? Why would you watch a film so skilfully conceived and crafted to make you suffer for two hours, both mentally and physically? And, most importantly, why would you pay for a cinematic gadfly to rip up your own shameful human nature into pieces and then hold them to your face?

For me, the red thread running through Dancer in the dark, Dogville and this film is how lovingly the writer rejoices at the display of evil and cruelty. It is as if he were shouting at us that it is our Nature to be evil, to inflict pain to others and to ourselves, and to enjoy it as the beasts we are.

The photography reminded me a lot of the work of Chris Cunningham: dark and foggy atmospheres, shallow depth of field, cold palettes and a disturbing attention to textures and detail. The super slow motion scenes are a marvel, and probably Chris Tookey was referring to them when he mentioned those ‘few images of startling beauty’.

If you suspect that films have a purpose and a reason on their own, even if you can’t name it; if you believe there is a point in safely experiencing a brief but realistic jewel of hatred, remorse and agonising pain, go watch Lars von Trier’s Antichrist.

If, on the other hand, you think only a mentally ill person or a masochist could enjoy that, or if the trailer made you hesitate for a moment, spare yourself the ordeal.

Si trabajas con Flex, ActionScript, Flash, Air, BlazeDS, AMF, Cairngorm, PureMVC u otras lenguas de programación de Adobe Systems o tecnologías relacionadas quizá te interese pasarte por el nuevo grupo/tema que hemos creado en Utoi: Profesionales de Adobe Flex.

Se trata de un grupo dedicado a todos aquellos que trabajan con Flex, o que quieren aprender más sobre la plataforma. Se admitirán preguntas sobre programación, discusiones acerca de cualquier aspecto relacionado con Flex, recomendaciones de herramientas, avisos de eventos y, por supuesto, ofertas y demandas de empleo relacionadas con el tema.

Utoi está aún un poco en pañales y de momento somos cuatro gatos (y muchos ya nos conocíamos entre nosotros; somos los de siempre :) De hecho, este tema está entre los nueve primeros que se han propuesto (y aprobado) en Utoi.

Por lo que me ha dicho la gente de Utoi, hoy es el lanzamiento «oficial» de Utoi en Soitu y, efectivamente, desde hoy están enlazando a la nueva red social y de microblogging desde la portada de Soitu (vaya nombres). A ver si eso le da un empujón al grupo de Flex…