Monday, May 20

YEAR:  2019 | Tags:  | | | | |

Luotsikatu, 17:45


I spent the morning working on the Interactive Storytelling course. Some people had missed deadlines, and I realised that the whole course would sink slowly into the ocean if I did nothing about this. I therefore figured out ways to extend some of the assignments so that everyone could still contribute, which meant emailing everyone several times with instructions, hints and tips.

I also realised that next week’s block would need completely rewriting to fit in with all of this. I had known that this might happen so I could not claim any surprise. I had resigned myself to having to fine-tune the course as it went along in the belief that this will make running it again next year much easier.

I expect I will say something similar next year, as I fine-tune it in real time again.

In the afternoon I worked on two papers and a grant application, about which I have a growing sense of foreboding. I have a feeling that if these do not produce any results then nothing will. I may change my mind about this later in the week, but I decided that I will retain the right not to.

I also contacted Cathy Hunt about arranging an interview for the podcast. I then checked to discover that the eager listener can now listen to Miaaw on six different platforms, including Google podcasts, and iTunes (which I disconnected by accident) will soon get added again as a seventh. This does not include Soundcloud and, so theoretically the world can choose between nine platforms.

Now we have to persuade the world to make a choice, rather than simply ignore us. Why do I think that this might prove the hard part?

At 16:15 I leave for Katajanokka to find the Bioarts headquarters where I should find the opening ceremony for the Pixelache Festival, which kicks off today. I get there just as it starts and stop to talk with Steve, and Antti, and Vishnu. Inside I meet Andrew and several others.

I listen to some conversations on headphones and look at the canned data. I get admonished for trying to touch one of the cans because, ladies and gentlemen, all the old rules still apply.

On my way out, I turn right into Luotsikatu and then pause to photograph the front of a building. I can hear the rising chatter from the shop on the corner, where Bioarts live, and in the distance the siren call of the number 4 tram.

It will take me an hour to get home.