Sunday, February 19, 2006

Last 24 hours

24 hours ago, I arrived in Toronto.

22 hours ago, I played in a free improv Workshop at Bad Dog Theatre.

21 hours ago, I saw Globehead Theatre Sports at Bad Dog. They were okay.

19 hours ago, I sat down to watch Second City: Reloaded sketch show, and then improv. For the long form improv, I gave the suggestion (and only suggestion) of "Destruction".

14 hours ago, I started driving back to Kingston, after dropping off an old friend I hadn' seen in a while who shares my birthday.

13 hours, the other two guys in the car and I start trying to tell the best worst joke.

12 hours ago, I arrive in Kingston, and sleep/

6 hours ago, I wake up and return the rental car. It was a full-size Buick with faux wood interior. Upon returning it, I felt as if I became younger by 60 years.

5 hours ago, I ate eggs, 40% raisins and OJ while watching a bad horror movie, while reading in Scientific American about Tsunamis.

4 to 3 hours ago, I cleaned my room, checked email, got stuff ready for the rest of the week. I've decided that I'm not doing any work until tommorow.

2 hours ago, I ate lunch.

For the last hour, I've been listening to Feynman's Lecture on Physics while becoming progressively more stoned.

Does this last 24 hours say alot about me (that's what I intended when I started writing this). I think it says about my days off.

Yours in Ego,

Wednesday, February 15, 2006


I don't write enough. Here goes.

A few years back, when I lived in British Columbia still, I read alot of the Myst Books, and generally was obsessed with the Myst Universe. The most intriguiging part was the possibility of world creation based on simple, self-consistent rules. No restraint on real world physics. This may not have been the intention of the Miller brother's lasting effect, but its what I have.

I was reminded of this yesterday I think when I remembered of a particular world I created, and wrote down.

I often wonder what the essence of science fiction is - is it creating a world, populating it with characters, and then placing the literary video camera up to this world. In this case, the work is front-end heavy. Lord of the Rings would be an example of this. OR, is it the other way around: A simple world, with most of the work ongoing as the plot continues. In this case, the work is continuous. I imagine most science fiction television shows are like this. In my opinion, its much more fun to do the front-ended work, as I am better at it, and at least imaginative enough for it.

So this world I created was situated on a gas giant. Ideally, I would like this to be possible with normal-universe physics, but some stretchings would have to be made, maybe. So, a gas giant. There is a planetary surface, but for the humanoids I care about, it is far too low and too far away to be of concern, or to even be visible. The core of the planet is metallic, liquid even, and conducts strong electric currents, producting a strong magnetic field. We see this on Jupiter today. Now, here comes the cool part. Suspended, high above the planet's core, in a region of habitable atmospheric pressure and density and temperature, are clusters of large superconducting quasi-metallic rocks, ranging in size from 1 km to 10 m, with some soil/plant toppings. The superconductivity may occur due to some cooling process, as a results of bombardment from an unusual radiation environment, whatever, but it is borderline possible. The superconductivity is what causes the suspension in the strong magnetic field (just look up superconductors). Imagine standing on a 10 m rock, jumping up and down and feeling it jiggle just a little bit. Imagine traversing a crude bridge between neighbouring rock islands.

I imagine life on this planet could start airborne, depending on the atmosphere, and somehow migrate to the rocks, build up plant life. Actually, reading Guns, Germs and Steel hs given me a great perspective on the development of civilization. I'm thinking now, there is no incentive for animals to grow. So, how about I induce a spin in the rocks, meaning that the plants have to rotate to capture the sun, beginning the development of mobility and metabolism.

Cool. I should do this more often.