Mar 22 2010

Keepsakes, sharing and wishful thinking in a digital world

I flicked through my iTunes library the other day looking for a Warren Zevon song that I’m pretty sure I have…somewhere. Surely, buried in the 11,825 tracks of my iTunes library it’s bound to be there. But, no.

My head immediately went to thinking about the copious hard drives I have and wondered where that song might be hiding. It made me smile to imagine a miniature Warren Zevon, gradient lenses and a surly, unshaven demeanor, peeking out from behind the old (massive!) 320GB SCSI RAID collecting dust in my office. With a wink, he ducks behind leading me to where it *might* be.

Then, I think about it for a bit. Talisman or not, it’s not likely to be on that drive. In fact, I have no idea where it could possible have gone. Except, gulp, deleted.

Beginnings of a digital packrat

In 2001 I took a trip to the San Diego Apple Store (the closest store at that point to my home in Tennessee) and bought this new thing called an iPod. All 5 glorioius gigabytes of it. That started me on a path toward total music domination. Hard drives couldn’t get big enough for me and I could never have enough music to suit every mood. And since 2001 I have acquired, stored, moved and reacquired a metric assload of music.

But, this recent search got me thinking about how my parents shared music. My family isn’t musical but we had a few records around. When they’d leave home I would find my way to the Creedence, Harry Nilsson or Iron Butterfly records and turn them up very loud on the old Pioneer stereo.

Rebellious? Only sorta. The music was just lying around and begged to be played. And, more importantly, it was accessible. It could be carted off to my room, taken to a friend’s house or left, ready for the next person, in that big wooden entertainment center my dad built*.

Beyond the music

Am I being nostalgic or are we really losing something by not just having a central repository for our media? Of course, it’s not just music, is it? We’re on the cusp of the iPad being released, destined to usher in a new catalog od ebooks and magazines.

I only have a few digital books now but if my, almost non existent, CD-based music library is any indication, I won’t need to remodel the house in order to make room for all those incoming ebooks. The virtual ones will do just fine in the future, I think.

Possibly the biggest thing about real books, for me anyway, lies is the tactile. I’m still a fan of paperback books – being able to break the spine and dog ear pages**. A worn, aged paperback has a great feel and smell but, even I can’t wait for the possibilities of grabbing a small library of books for a trip. No more stuffing an extra bag with various books to satisfy my reading whims. Now I can just purchase one over wifi or 3G. Click, pay, read.

But, cue the scary music, do you feel trouble brewing on the horizon, too?

When I’ve read that great novel, I would really love to be able to share what I’ve purchased (caveat: quickly, easily) with my friends and family. Maybe I want to send a line, a passage, or a whole book –what then?

If entire departments in my office can all share a spreadsheet, surely I can share an ebook file with a friend, right? Right?

When is a library not like a Library?

During our lifetime we will accumulate massive amounts of data. Our hard drives are the resting place of all things media. Those ad hoc libraries may be all-inclusive (pictures, movies, books, music, dissertations, journal entries) but they aren’t very portable.

Put it in the cloud, you say? Yes, that’s what we have been doing and it’s a good solution but not a great one. Our spreadsheets, pictures, backups are all over the world in far flung media centers and back room servers. But, access to that data isn’t simple or intuitive for the average person (read: casual computer user).

Furthermore, the two most basic problems (not friendly user interfaces and clever web x.0 names) in dealing with all this media haven’t been solved by anyone successfully — real world data management during life and after death.

Libraries, customarily, are all about lending materials. A portion of your tax dollars is apportioned to the county for which they build a location, stock it with books, periodicals and other types of physical media. As a tax payer you, and your family, are entitled to borrow from these locations at whim. But a digital library that resides on your laptop can only really be checked out by the person holding it, or, in the case of MP3 players, whichever devices are synchronized with that laptop.

To build a true digital library would cost a massive amount money for infrastructure (servers, bandwidth, technical support, etc) and likely beyond of the skill set for most people. But not if a service, a paid service everyone used, could do all that for you.

A few bytes here, a gigabyte there…sooner or later we’re talking about a lot of data, right? Yes and no.

Ebooks (just pre-formatted text in most cases) are minuscule in size when compared to a music album or movie file. In fact, if you wrapped up all the text on my blog since 2001 I’m sure it would fit neatly onto a couple of 3.5″ floppy discs. Tiny. But, movie files downloaded to your computer are massive (several gigabytes in some cases).

How does a data center get around storing everything for everyone? Logical management of common assets.

Let’s use music as an example, though the same works for movies and books, too. On my laptop I have the Beatles song “Baby You’re A Rich Man” from the album “Magical Mystery Tour”and I’ll bet I’m not the only one who has this track.

It was purposeful that I point out the particular album since that track also appears on the “Yellow Submarine”and “Magical Mystery Tour [2009 Mono Remaster]” albums as well. So, in this case, the data center would hold all three versions because they’re different. And so it would go for live recordings, remastered versions, special box sets, etc. But in the end, only one of each of those versions would be held in the data center. Each song would then be attributed to every library necessary.

Keep in mind we’re not breaking new ground here. iTunes, Amazon and every other digital etailer are already doing this. When you buy a song those services are pushing you a file they’ve already got (selling you and everyone else the same file, ad infinitum) and the main costs are two: data storage and bandwidth.

But, in a real world scenario, how could this work with a personal media library? Well, the same way a real library works, by checking in and out for use. This would be in the background, synchronous and available wherever your devices are used.

Want to read a book? Just open it up in your ebook reader. In the background, the reader app will negotiate with your library and ‘unlock’ it for use. Want to move from your ebook reader to a cafe and use their computers? Log in, check out the book and pick up where you left off.

Share and Share Alike

Now that all of our media is in the main library, how do we share it with others? Sharing media with friends is where the landmines are strewn about (This is where publishers, rights holders and, well, the bean counters get fidgety, btw)

Lets pretend I’m reading the latest Harry Potter, Twilight, Tom Robbins novel. I really enjoyed it and wanted to share it with a friend. Through some menu on my device I would send them a link to the book in my library.

If they decide to pick it out and read it that book now becomes ‘on loan’. As far as I’m concerned it would okay if it were unavailable to me until they’re done. That friend is now in temporary control of the media. They can’t copy or loan it to someone else (I’m still iffy on that last point), but simply borrow it.

How do you get your media back? Well, technically, it never left. I suppose the library would offer a gentle reminder or force the user to relinquish control. Likely, though, something potentially more elegant – a timer, perhaps, would be in order.

For large media Apple, Sony and Amazon are doing this already for time-sensitive downloaded content. When you “rent” a movie from either of their stores the media file is downloaded to your machine and a timer starts when you push PLAY. That timer, depending on the store, gives you no more than 48 hours to view the movie***. For books, it seems only the B&N “Nook” allows you to lend a book for up to 14 days****.

Now, if we’re all sharing media, how the heck are publishers (music and literature) going to make any money beyond that first sale? Well, the Apple method would be for the borrower to be allowed to purchase that media at any point during the lend, or, of course after that time has expired. But, in reality I’m sure music and book publishers would rather the files never be lent. Purchase or move on.

Companies like Barnes & Noble have done some interesting things with lending books using their Nook device. In fact, for those few of you who own one, you’re more than welcome to sit *in* the bookstore and peruse full texts. But, that kinda defeats the point of a having an on-the-go device, doesn’t it?

Till death do us part

We’ll assume that you’re not collecting media you wouldn’t want your family to find (cough *clown porn*) what happens to all this media when we die? If there were a central library then that media should be unlocked for another person you’ve designated. A beneficiary. In my case, my wife would then be the proud owner of every track the Police, U2 and Ace of Base ever recorded.

Won’t she be excited.

Granted, by the time some of us pass who knows what digital format will overtake one another. A litany of acronyms we use daily has changed over the last few years: AVI, JPEG, GIF, MP3, AAC, M4V, MOV, OGG, PDF*****.

We can always hope that our media devices of the future will build in some sort of backward compatibility. In any case, that’s the hope.

Who knows, maybe it’s coming sooner than we think. Apple just built a behemoth of a data center in North Carolina. People, not just me, are going to demand this type of access.

And, if the sweat on my brow from thinking about storage of all this media means anything, it’s gotta be giving the silicon valley guys night terrors. The sound of all those servers whirring to life as people access a book, picture or movie. I can see it now, one server oompah loompah talking to another one, turning in mock terror, and saying “We’re gonna need a bigger boat”.

* – In the case of the Iron Butterfly record, I left it in the sun…a deed for which I will never hear the end. Right mom?

** – People read in the bathroom, for which paperbacks are perfect. At the same time, I have an aversion to taking technology in there with me. But, I know I won’t be in the majority. The iPad, from a sanitary viewpoint, might be worse than the bubonic plague. All I can say is, if you want to show me something on your personal iPad, you’ll need to hold it. I won’t be touching it.

*** – for music it could be timed (24/48 hours) or by play count. Though I enjoy the minutiae, it’s not really for me to decide. They’re all just suggestions about the future I’d like to see.

**** – Thanks, Dave. I had forgotten all about the Nook.

**** – Happy 17th birthday, PDF! Sorry, I forgot to send you an ecard.


Mar 21 2010

HDSLR

So, I’m a little late to the digital SLR game. All you hipsters out there have been shooting with them for a few years while I’ve opted to sit behind the ever-devolving line of pro video gear.

Truth be told, the relatively cheap Canon Elphs I’ve been purchasing year after year were great for getting that quick shot (or the ubiquitous Facebook duckface shot) but not much else. No real depth of field, poor low light sensors, no true film speed/ISO settings. Come to think of it, that describes every pro video camera I’ve used for years, too.

The last couple of weekends I have been playing with a Canon 5D MkII. It’s reignited a dormant love of photography. Honestly, I haven’t played with a camera (and cared about the settings/exposures) since the late 90s.

I’m increasingly amazed at how good these cameras are, how they’re getting more sensitive to light and they allow you tweak them to react very similarly to film. Now, if only I could find that Ilford Delta 100 setting.

Below are some of the images I’ve nabbed. Watch closely,  you can actually see several weeks worth of improvement…


Mar 19 2010

Recession Era Banking

A short story written for the DSD Flash challenge -

Recession Era Banking

“Is service always this slow?” he said to nobody in particular. Mumbled indifference from those around.

The queue, a line of people standing front to back, felt like being in an elevator to him. He watched as most eyes stayed down, reviewing the tile or carpet beneath their feet. Fat, thin, dark, light. A mishmash of cultures. In a crowd, he thought, everyone eventually looks gray.

At the windows the tellers sat neatly; boy, girl, boy. Each had a cheap name plate, a stack of brochures and pen chained to the countertop, for security.

Industrial carpet and specked hospital tile split the room. The most expensive thing, he thought, would be the safe or the bullet proof glass at the drive through window.

Faces of the tellers, he noticed, blinked an overly dramatized, hopeful look to each customer who approached. Then, when the time came and the customer walked away, the look faded away, too. Eyes would flick to the clock on the wall, chests would exhale. Like a machine starting back to life, the smile would rebuild itself for the next customer.

Docile, he thought.

“I’d rather they take their time and get it right.”

The man turned toward the voice, a woman next to him in line.

He stared at her for a moment. Her makeup perfect. Her voice warm. The thin, v-neck sweater she wore directed his eyes down.

“You said the service is slow…” she reminded him with a smile.

“Right, I just meant that we’re all in here during lunch and it would be nice if they could, you know…” he said.

The woman nodded, looked around “At least it’s not crowded. Must be an off week. Not a pay week, I mean.”

Overhead flouresent tubes hummed, their sound mixed with the murmurs of the room: the tip-tap-tip of a keypad, a hushed conversation, the scuff of feet across carpeting.

“I suppose I don’t know if this is crowded, though. I’ve never been in this bank before.” The woman offered.

“I don’t see the inside of banks much either. Never have much money anyway,” the man smirked as he said it.

The woman smiled back as she waded through an enormous purse. He noticed her clothing; neat, pressed. Everything had some insignia; stamped or embroidered.

“Doesn’t that make your shoulder hurt? Women always carry the biggest purses. ”

She looked up, catching his gaze down into the bag.

“When they’re this size we call them a handbag. My husband used to say it could hold the secrets of the universe it was so big.”

The man watched her hand move in the bag, stealthily past a pocket book, make-up cases. The glint of her bracelet somehow found light and reflected it out of the bag.

In those brief seconds he knew type of car she drove (Range Rover) and the vacations she took (winters in St. Croix). Within seconds he knew all he needed and was attracted to her if only to feel that life for a few lusty seconds.

She smelled nice, too, he thought, as he caught another peek down her v-neck. A withdrawal slip emerged from her bag.

“What’s your husband do?” the man asked, curiosity feigned.

“He worked at one of those big investment companies. You know the ones everyone is so mad at. I guess he did something foolish was about to get caught. Instead he jumped out a window. Thirty-second floor.” Looking him in the eye she finished, “So, nothing. Anymore.”

The man’s jaw went slack.

She preened a speck of lint from the cuff of her sweater. Her mouth didn’t smile, but he was almost sure he saw the muscles in her face tighten, holding back a grin.

“Best thing that could have happened to him. To us. My kids and me.” She finished.

“Next please?” a teller called out and flicked his eyes to the clock on the wall. Exhale.

The man fished a folded slip of paper from his pocket.

Sounds of the room turned a hollow tone. The drive-through window became a distant squawk. The chipper voices of the tellers now flowed like cold syrup in his ears.

The woman looked at the man, offering him the available teller.

He unfolded the wad of paper in his hand, “This is a robbery”. Written moments ago in a hurry. Smudged and childish. The man shifted his weight, in his jacket pocket he could feel the weight of the small pistol he brought.

The teller called out again, the people in line looked up. Fat, thin, dark and light they stared at him. A blink and their eyes darted toward the tellers.

“Honey, it’s your turn,” the woman in the sweater said, “You want this one or what?”

The man looked at her. His eyes felt warm. The sweat on his forehead, he knew, would run down to his eyes soon.

The woman leaned in close, whispering, “Banks are better than convenience stores, they teach them not to put up a fight. I hate being shot at.”

Someone in line coughed. The woman tugged at the waist of her sweater, adjusted her bracelet. She took a long look at the man, smiled and sighed.

“Go home or stay out of the way.” She told him with a glance as she walked away.

As she moved toward the teller the man could hear her say, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, honey. I hope you can help me with a sizable withdrawal.”