Spain 1967 (On the road agin)

it’s still crystal clear

España that year

I was out and as free

as I’d ever be

no family no things
the wind in my wings

untethered untied

alone on a ride

that took me inside

for the very first time

a pilgrim a rambler

a dreamer a gambler

a drunkard a liar

a lover of fire

free of god free of sin

without and within
oh jesus my friend
put me on the road again

Note to Charlie Rose (re tonight's JPMorgan show)

So, Charlie Rose,

When you purport to examine a real “problem” by putting “unbiased” “friends” of your own and the “accused” on your show, how the heck do you sleep at night? 

Maybe you don't.

More importantly, how can you expect us proles to believe what you beautiful people say?

Oh, and can’t you please get away from Harvard Business School? Is there not a better, more ethical oracle?

Thanks.

Word order: The internet as the toy with a tin ear By Lewis Lapham

I speak Spanish to God, Italian to women, French to men, and German to my horse - Emperor Charles V

But in which language does one speak to a machine, and what can be expected by way of response? The questions arise from the accelerating data-streams out of which we've learned to draw the breath of life, posed in consultation with the equipment that scans the flesh and tracks the spirit, cues the ATM, the GPS, and the EKG, arranges the assignations on Match.com and the high-frequency trades at Goldman Sachs, catalogues the pornography and drives the car, tells us how and when and where to connect the dots and thus recognise ourselves as human beings.
Why then does it come to pass that the more data we collect - from Google, YouTube, and Facebook - the less likely we are to know what it means?