Alexis Allen

Enthusiast. Bookworm. Supervillain.

Tomorrow’s going to be awkward.

So I never got around to figuring out who Whatshisname’s executive assistant is. As a result, not only do I not know where our Seattle office is, but even if I did, I wouldn’t have a desk. This just means I’m working from home. Oh well.

But home is an empty shell of an apartment and my landline and Internet access aren’t being hooked up until Tuesday, and who knows when the hardware will arrive, so the plan was to go to Starbucks downstairs where I have Wifi and can connect to the corporate network, but you can’t reasonably take a call from a Starbucks, because it’s too loud, or from the library, because it’s too quiet. So I’ll have to come upstairs to facilitate the calls, and do so without network access, which means they’ll have to just follow along instead of sharing my screen. Also, my cell phone’s battery has a lifespan of 30 minutes, so I’ll have to remain tethered to the wall if I have any chance of its surviving both calls. So that’s going to be awful.

But today I went through my morning ritual in my new nest, and listened to the quiet of drizzle and later saw LARPers LARPing and ate the most delicious sandwich and watched the headlights come on at 4PM and decided that this would maybe be okay for a while. I guess there’s nothing to be done but suffer the teasing and try to make out what’s happening twelve hundred miles away through a cracked, tinny phone circa 2009 from my empty bedroom, sitting on an inflatable mattress, and gosh darn it, I’ll do it with style.

VOTE! In which you decide every aspect of my life - which route should I take?

VOTE! In which you decide every aspect of my life - which route should I take?

This book documents one man’s noodlings while on vacation in North Dakota, so anyone looking for hard-hitting investigative non-fiction will be disappointed. However, the book is easy to read, conversational, and encapsulates much of the current thinking around what Hughes calls the “noosphere,” the ecology of ideas, viewed in an evolutionary context.

Like all philosophy associated with science, the conclusions tend to diminish the significance of human participation. We “host” ideas. Why we choose is irrelevant compared to the act of choosing. Free will is likened to the behavior of ants. And so on. 

It’s become common for me to read these books with a kind of horrified recognition. While Hughes’ case is far from air-tight (a fact he will happily point out to you, in the spirit of true inquiry), there is a lot of merit to the concept that Ideas-with-a-capital-I operate outside the realm of human will and may exert control over our destinies, rather than the other way around. He points to the decimation of the buffalo from the Great Plains of the United States; when Europeans brought more effective weaponry to the scene, the result was wholesale annihilation of the buffalo population. What rational person would say it was a good idea to completely destroy a beneficial, finite resource from the land? No one. That is self-defeating. But natural selection allows for extinction as a matter of course, and a guy’s got to earn a living, right? Human behavior is riddled with such things, from our inability to resist fast food to our knowing destruction of the environment to the overuse of antibiotics. Not all ideas are human-beneficial, but it seems humans are too stupid to resist the path of random progress, even when doing so might serve their interests.

So then, what are we? Hughes comes from the perspective that we are highly evolved primates, a twitching knot of chimpulses, swimming high on the sparkling effervescence of the noosphere, heady enough from the fumes of ideatory evolution as to think we are the genie, when we’re little more than the goo in which the Life of Ideas grows. Okay, he doesn’t say that. I might be a little defensive.

It’s a timely book, as we’re on the cusp of creating brand new genes that don’t exist in nature (which I’m sure will end well), as well as making monumental strides in artificial intelligence. If Hughes is correct, then I take comfort. When the bio-robot overlords subjugate the human species, I will at least know that it was in the service of innovation.

This book documents one man’s noodlings while on vacation in North Dakota, so anyone looking for hard-hitting investigative non-fiction will be disappointed. However, the book is easy to read, conversational, and encapsulates much of the current thinking around what Hughes calls the “noosphere,” the ecology of ideas, viewed in an evolutionary context.

Like all philosophy associated with science, the conclusions tend to diminish the significance of human participation. We “host” ideas. Why we choose is irrelevant compared to the act of choosing. Free will is likened to the behavior of ants. And so on.

It’s become common for me to read these books with a kind of horrified recognition. While Hughes’ case is far from air-tight (a fact he will happily point out to you, in the spirit of true inquiry), there is a lot of merit to the concept that Ideas-with-a-capital-I operate outside the realm of human will and may exert control over our destinies, rather than the other way around. He points to the decimation of the buffalo from the Great Plains of the United States; when Europeans brought more effective weaponry to the scene, the result was wholesale annihilation of the buffalo population. What rational person would say it was a good idea to completely destroy a beneficial, finite resource from the land? No one. That is self-defeating. But natural selection allows for extinction as a matter of course, and a guy’s got to earn a living, right? Human behavior is riddled with such things, from our inability to resist fast food to our knowing destruction of the environment to the overuse of antibiotics. Not all ideas are human-beneficial, but it seems humans are too stupid to resist the path of random progress, even when doing so might serve their interests.

So then, what are we? Hughes comes from the perspective that we are highly evolved primates, a twitching knot of chimpulses, swimming high on the sparkling effervescence of the noosphere, heady enough from the fumes of ideatory evolution as to think we are the genie, when we’re little more than the goo in which the Life of Ideas grows. Okay, he doesn’t say that. I might be a little defensive.

It’s a timely book, as we’re on the cusp of creating brand new genes that don’t exist in nature (which I’m sure will end well), as well as making monumental strides in artificial intelligence. If Hughes is correct, then I take comfort. When the bio-robot overlords subjugate the human species, I will at least know that it was in the service of innovation.

We rarely talk about the fact that the Web is a barn we raised together. 
The first generation of Web developers learned the craft from one another. When’s the last time so large a group of people collaborated on developing something so great? 
I’ve been privileged to receive notes like this in my life. I’ve sent dozens of notes just like this to the people who encouraged and taught me how to code formatting in 1994, tables in 1996, CSS in 1999, and ever onwards. Everything we gave was just a fraction of what we got, passed on and on and around and back again, for years and years and years. Everyone won.
So here we are, the designers and developers and product managers, the conference speakers and venture capitalists, professional bloggers and online critics, and more than a spattering of CEOs. How unbelievably lucky we were to fall into a society of sharing that propelled us all into prosperity. It was a hobby that defined our adult lives. Admit it, the Web’s been good to you.
So here we are, cosy in our cottages. Believe me, there’s nothing I want more than to snuggle down in the blankets and congratulate us all on our cleverness, but there are some that are saying that the Web is under attack by the strategic decisions of corporations that benefitted more than any other by the Web’s growth: Apple and Google. And it’s not an argument without merit.

Apple is the arbiter of the software that runs on its devices (completely, in the case of iThings; increasingly, in the case of the AppStorified Mac). This creates unnecessary bottlenecks when it comes to bugfix or security releases. It creates a single point of failure for apps and therefore for devices; if Apple goes under tomorrow (or, more likely, changes their mind completely about whatever they please), how will you continue to update your apps? Worst, it puts Apple in the position of policing for content, which, whether driven by a well-intentioned desire to avoid offensive content or by a malevolent puritanism, is a Bad Thing.
- “Done with Apple”, Boone Gorges, October 12, 2011

Well. What am I to do with that? 
Alright. So the growth we’ve all been enjoying despite this awful economy, the conversion gains and the order value gains, have been fueled by expansion. The user base is still growing. It’s going to continue to grow. And the toys that enable them to buy online continue to diversify, to spread. So I’ve got more people out there, and they’re buying a new pair of shoes on Monday morning at work, and they’re buying a movie later that night to watch with dinner, and they’re buying their book online to read before getting on the plane. It’s all growth, magical beautiful growth based on giving people what they want when they want it so they can live richer lives. I’m down with that. I think most people are down with that.
I understand why the big guys are moving towards a closed circuit. The revenue benefits are significant and… well, no one seems to mind. There’s a convenant you make with your users when you take on that model. Your product has to be easy. It has to be good. Really good. And all three of what I consider the big three - Apple, Amazon, and Google - have honored that covenant. So no one minds. I don’t mind iTunes. The only time I don’t like iTunes is when it doesn’t have what I’m looking for. The only time I mind Google is when it shows me ads that aren’t relevant. And, in fact, I hate having Apple TV AND Netflix AND Hulu, and have to check all three to see who’s carrying Downton Abbey.
It was only a matter of time before the content of a CD was sold just as the CD was before it. I think we all saw that it was going to happen, no matter how loudly people complained about Pirate Bay. But I didn’t see that commercial content might actually move aggressively against non-commercial content for the simple reason that the two are now in competition. 
I think right now, the existence of YouTube feeds the value of the device by being “already available” and free when the device is first bought. So the YouTube mobile client comes pre-installed. That content is consumed and enjoyed, causing the user to go into the app store to see what else is there, hello paid content. The same is true of all social media tools. The big ones are easy to find on any device. But is this the culmination of the Web that Wired built? Facebook is a nightmare on every level. No, they must be considered commercial content. It’s just that it’s the contributors who pay for the social networking services with their personal information, rather than the consumer. But let’s be honest. It’s paid for. It’s just that no one seems to mind.
I have to tell you, I’m excited about all this. I think it’s fascinating and the work coming out of all these market undulations is gorgeous. I love the race to the living room. I love the texting teenagers. I love the kids playing Nintendo. I love the fucked up way it is messing with all our brains on a deeply physiological level. Whew! A girl’s got to fan herself. What a wonderful world. What a wonderful industry.
But the concern is interesting, maybe even legit. There are many, many ways in which I can’t communicate with my friend because she’s on an Android and I’m on my iPad. And I realized recently that our workarounds are just utilizing social networking sites, which are no less proprietary and controlled.
I mean, this is just the maturation of the medium, right? It’s not like… like… It’s just the maturation of the medium, right. I mean, what could we possibly be losing? 
I think. I think maybe it’s not a bad idea to think about that.

We rarely talk about the fact that the Web is a barn we raised together. 

The first generation of Web developers learned the craft from one another. When’s the last time so large a group of people collaborated on developing something so great? 

I’ve been privileged to receive notes like this in my life. I’ve sent dozens of notes just like this to the people who encouraged and taught me how to code formatting in 1994, tables in 1996, CSS in 1999, and ever onwards. Everything we gave was just a fraction of what we got, passed on and on and around and back again, for years and years and years. Everyone won.

So here we are, the designers and developers and product managers, the conference speakers and venture capitalists, professional bloggers and online critics, and more than a spattering of CEOs. How unbelievably lucky we were to fall into a society of sharing that propelled us all into prosperity. It was a hobby that defined our adult lives. Admit it, the Web’s been good to you.

So here we are, cosy in our cottages. Believe me, there’s nothing I want more than to snuggle down in the blankets and congratulate us all on our cleverness, but there are some that are saying that the Web is under attack by the strategic decisions of corporations that benefitted more than any other by the Web’s growth: Apple and Google. And it’s not an argument without merit.

Apple is the arbiter of the software that runs on its devices (completely, in the case of iThings; increasingly, in the case of the AppStorified Mac). This creates unnecessary bottlenecks when it comes to bugfix or security releases. It creates a single point of failure for apps and therefore for devices; if Apple goes under tomorrow (or, more likely, changes their mind completely about whatever they please), how will you continue to update your apps? Worst, it puts Apple in the position of policing for content, which, whether driven by a well-intentioned desire to avoid offensive content or by a malevolent puritanism, is a Bad Thing.

- “Done with Apple”, Boone Gorges, October 12, 2011

Well. What am I to do with that? 

Alright. So the growth we’ve all been enjoying despite this awful economy, the conversion gains and the order value gains, have been fueled by expansion. The user base is still growing. It’s going to continue to grow. And the toys that enable them to buy online continue to diversify, to spread. So I’ve got more people out there, and they’re buying a new pair of shoes on Monday morning at work, and they’re buying a movie later that night to watch with dinner, and they’re buying their book online to read before getting on the plane. It’s all growth, magical beautiful growth based on giving people what they want when they want it so they can live richer lives. I’m down with that. I think most people are down with that.

I understand why the big guys are moving towards a closed circuit. The revenue benefits are significant and… well, no one seems to mind. There’s a convenant you make with your users when you take on that model. Your product has to be easy. It has to be good. Really good. And all three of what I consider the big three - Apple, Amazon, and Google - have honored that covenant. So no one minds. I don’t mind iTunes. The only time I don’t like iTunes is when it doesn’t have what I’m looking for. The only time I mind Google is when it shows me ads that aren’t relevant. And, in fact, I hate having Apple TV AND Netflix AND Hulu, and have to check all three to see who’s carrying Downton Abbey.

It was only a matter of time before the content of a CD was sold just as the CD was before it. I think we all saw that it was going to happen, no matter how loudly people complained about Pirate Bay. But I didn’t see that commercial content might actually move aggressively against non-commercial content for the simple reason that the two are now in competition. 

I think right now, the existence of YouTube feeds the value of the device by being “already available” and free when the device is first bought. So the YouTube mobile client comes pre-installed. That content is consumed and enjoyed, causing the user to go into the app store to see what else is there, hello paid content. The same is true of all social media tools. The big ones are easy to find on any device. But is this the culmination of the Web that Wired built? Facebook is a nightmare on every level. No, they must be considered commercial content. It’s just that it’s the contributors who pay for the social networking services with their personal information, rather than the consumer. But let’s be honest. It’s paid for. It’s just that no one seems to mind.

I have to tell you, I’m excited about all this. I think it’s fascinating and the work coming out of all these market undulations is gorgeous. I love the race to the living room. I love the texting teenagers. I love the kids playing Nintendo. I love the fucked up way it is messing with all our brains on a deeply physiological level. Whew! A girl’s got to fan herself. What a wonderful world. What a wonderful industry.

But the concern is interesting, maybe even legit. There are many, many ways in which I can’t communicate with my friend because she’s on an Android and I’m on my iPad. And I realized recently that our workarounds are just utilizing social networking sites, which are no less proprietary and controlled.

I mean, this is just the maturation of the medium, right? It’s not like… like… It’s just the maturation of the medium, right. I mean, what could we possibly be losing? 

I think. I think maybe it’s not a bad idea to think about that.

  • LEYNER: But I do think about the people who do read my books, yeah, and what their habits are.
  • WALLACE: Because it's an act of communication. What makes the analogy okay but also makes it break down is the part of the [Bobby] Fischer-like obsession Mark's talking about consists of a kind of mental and emotional dance with a constructed reader that you figure has a life more or less like yours, and whom in a weird way you're talking to. Again, again, I'm like totally with you about fifty percent of it. The thing about it is that the light and fun and all that stuff is definitely, that's, that's part of what makes art magical for me, but there's another part, there's a, there's the, [sigh] and you see I'm afraid I'm going to sound like a Puritan or a prig, but --
  • LEYNER: That's okay. Go ahead.
  • FRANZEN: You do that, Dave.

A colleague and I argue endlessly about what builds a better product: teams of generalists or specialists. My position is that specialists speak different languages and therefore embed mistakes of isolation in their solution, whereas generalists can synthesize multiple disciplines to offer greater overall value. His position is that generalists lack the hours in the day to be as good at their skill as a specialist and that the best solutions minimize interdependencies anyway, so the gains are significant. I say that may be true, but there’s a diminishing return on product perfection past a certain threshold so you’re not gaining much value, to which he says HA! Tell that to the Microsoft Windows team and I say why are you still talking and not kissing me?

In truth, I’m likely wrong. There’s tons of data that convinces me that specialists, in a cooperative model, can deliver products at higher quality for lower costs, and that communication issues can be addressed by adopting iterative solution design and I’m fine with conceding it, BUT. Something just wasn’t jiving, and I finally realized what it is. It doesn’t matter whether your product is good, if no one wants it anymore. And only generalists have the skills to ensure that they do.

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And what I find jarring about this formulation is the same thing that bothers me about the alarming trend of weddings in which the photographers and videographers have free reign, even during the ceremony, in order to get the best, most cinematic record of the event, at the expense of the event itself and everyone participating. It’s a conflation of the record of the event with the event itself, or even a privileging of the record over what gives the record its meaning and power.

Intimacy and Performance on Facebook” by Joe Moon, September 2011


A short but eventful vacation is certainly more memorable than a long but uneventful one. That’s because people don’t recall a pleasant experience as more pleasurable just because it lasts longer. We are more affected by the intensity of a sensation, whether pleasant or painful, than by how long it lasts.

Indeed, the length of an experience barely influences our memory of it; what we remember is a combination of the intensity of the best moment and the worst moment, as well as how we felt at the end. Scientists call this the peak-end rule, and we’ll discuss what it means for designing your vacations in Step 9.

10 Vacation Rules to Save Your Life, Wendy Perrin, Director of Consumer News & Digital Community at Conde Nast Traveler

Gunning for Wall Street, with Faulty Aim

Anonymous asked: Why did your twitter picture turn sad. It was so nice when you were giggling in the old pic! Flower in hair in new pic is very cute, tho!

I didn’t… What?

Oh! Right, twitter.

Well, Anonymous. Why are you faceless? I suppose we all have our reasons. Maybe you’re anonymous because you’re shy sometimes. Maybe I’m sad sometimes. It’s allowed.

Socrates, kind of a dick.

MENO: Can you tell me, Socrates — is being good something you can be taught? Or does it come with practice rather than being teachable? Or is is something that doesn’t come with practice or learning; does it just come to people naturally? Or some other way?

MENO: No, I suppose not. But come on, Socrates; do you really not even know what being good is? Is that what you want us to say about you to people back home?

MENO: Really? Didn’t you meet Gorgias when he was here?

MENO: So, didn’t you think he knew?

MENO: That’s right, I do.

MENO: Well, it’s not very difficult, Socrates. First, if you want to know what being good is for a man — well, that’s easy. Here’s what being a good man is: having what it takes to handle your city’s affairs and, in doing so, to help out your friends and hurt your enemies (while making sure they don’t do the same to you). Or, if you want me to explain what being a good woman is, no problem: she’s got to be good at looking after the home, be thrifty with household goods and always obey her man. And then there’s being a good child (a boy or a girl) or being a good old man (free, if you want or, if you like, a slave) — and there are all sorts of other cases of being good. So there’s no need to feel baffled about what being good is! The thing about “being good” is that it’s different for each of us; it varies according to what we’re doing, according to our role in life. And I imagine, Socrates, the same goes for being bad.

MENO: That’s just what I’d have said: no bee, in so far as it’s a bee, is any different from any other bee.

MENO: Yes.

MENO: I think so… only, I don’t see what you’re asking me quite as fully as I’d like.

MENO: In the case of health, yes, I think it’s the same thing for a man as for a woman.

MENO: No, I don’t.

MENO: Somehow I don’t feel it works in quite the same way as those other things, Socrates.

MENO: Yes.

MENO: Of course not.

MENO: Obviously.

MENO: Apparently.

MENO: Of course not.

MENO: Yes.

MENO: It looks like it.

MENO: I suppose not.

MENO: Well, obviously being good is a matter of being able to rule other people, if what you’re looking for is a single, overall definition.

MENO: No, Socrates, obviously not.

MENO: Yes, I suppose we are. After all, Socrates, doing what’s right is the same as being good, isn’t it?

MENO: How do you mean?

MENO: Yes, good point… that’s what I meant as well; I’m saying there are other ways of being good besides being right.

MENO: Alright then, there’s being brave. I think that’s a form of being good; and being sensible, and having knowledge, and being generous — and a whole lot of others.

MENO: No, that’s right, Socrates; I still can’t do it the way you want me to. I can’t get just one, overall take on what it is to be good, the way I could with those other things.

MENO: Absolutely.

MENO: Yes.

MENO: Yes, I could.

MENO: Right.

MENO: Yes.

MENO: Yes.

MENO: Obviously not, Socrates.

MENO: That’s right.

MENO: I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you tell me, Socrates?

Today’s meanderings through human knowledge included:

YouTube: Van Gogh: Painted with Words
“Nothing can be said of Van Gogh that he didn’t say himself. There are 902 letters here.” (with an unsurprisingly excellent performance by Benedict Cumberbatch as Van Gogh)

Wikipedia: Zaraϑuštra
The cardinal concept of aša—which is highly nuanced and only vaguely translatable—is at the foundation of all Zoroastrian doctrine, including that of Ahura Mazda (who is aša), creation (that is aša), existence (that is aša) and as the condition for Free Will, which is arguably Zoroaster’s greatest contribution to religious philosophy.

Your Local Library: “The Cocktail Party” by T. S. Eliot
Everyone makes a choice, of one kind or another, and then must take the consequences. Celia chose a way of which the consequence was crucifixion.

Wikipedia: Perennial philosophy
The Perennial Philosophy is expressed most succinctly in the Sanskrit formula, tat tvam asi (‘That thou art’); the Atman, or immanent eternal Self, is one with Brahman, the Absolute Principle of all existence; and the last end of every human being is to discover the fact for himself, to find out who he really is. (Aldous Huxley)

This appeals to a lot of the people that have popularized Twitter: A-list celebrities, media outlets, politicians and megabrands. Their pri­mary purpose on Twitter is to relate their ver­sion of events. It isn’t about conversing with their audience. CNN doesn’t really want to talk to you. They want to talk at you. This isn’t entirely about lack of desire, it’s also a matter of time. - Solving the Scoble Problem, by Rocky Agrawal

Great article. This phenomenon is hardly limited to A-listers; there’s a tipping point of popularity after which a person’s willingness to engage with new people disappears. Besides, I suspect most people are on some level afraid of the online space and prefer to think of it as a stage where they can act out their little creative impulses or live out their fantasies without the responsibility of participating in a community. It’s so… you know, public.

So where is the place where people want to talk to you, exactly?  Where is the magical place where everyone gathers together for group hugs and sharing? Seriously, I like hugs. Everything meaningful is, on some level, private. So how can the Internet be meaningful but also open to the public?

The answer is usually through the communication itself, abstracting your content into something artful. Several A-list comics, for example, are using Twitter to solicit feedback and hone their jokes, and can stray (as comics always do) into the deeply personal, deeply human. Likewise, art has always transformed the private into something safe for public consumption, and we’re way past pretending we don’t blend reporting and entertainment.  I want to see a celebrity use their platform to cultivate their fictional persona to the extent where it becomes art. Like Byron. Imagine what Byron would have done with Twitter.