Month: July 2025

  • merrily along, two

    The internets are full of crazy these days—and if it isn’t flat out nuts, it has probably been generated by an AI chatbot—so here is a few more good news, good vibe, life isn’t all wrinkly grapes reports from my week.

    My positives this past week were…

    The weather cooperated enough that I was able to mash up a few great summertime activities, turning on some tunes on the deck with the pergola shade up and writing out in the backyard instead of a cafe. The dog sat in the grass looking super contented and I got some vibes out my back door.

    It’s berry season, and my garden is full of fruit-bearing bushes and trees. Need I write more? Saskatoons, raspberries, haskaps, and soon—very soon—a tree bursting with juicy plums are just a picking away.

    I mentioned that the Kid got a summer job, but then a couple weeks later got her first paycheque and if there was ever an example of unfiltered joy through a text message, she sent me a dozen of them that morning. And then I think she stopped and bought herself a treat to celebrate.

    I’ve mentioned in other posts that I bought myself a gym membership to the local recreation centre. Some might not look at this as anything but a kind of fitness burden that they have taken on, but having access to some drop in classes and, yeah, the swimming pool is a definite mood boosting positive addition to my days.

    I have been mucking around with electronic music on my various devices, and have reached what I’m calling the curration stage—that’s the point where I am feeling done with just mucking around and am organizing things for a more learning-centric approach to the tools. It’s hard to explain without diving trench-deep into the details, but basically I’ve been weeding and pruning my toys so that I have a cleaner slate to do more experimentation-type stuff with sounds. 

    We have been more conscious about buying “Canadian” stuff lately, reorienting our spending, and have been finding lots of treasures in the form of better coffees, better beers, better fruit, and even better vibes.

    We were able to make a full salad last night for dinner from just stuff that came out of the garden in our backyard. Lettuce, beets, berries! Yum.

    We went for lunch in the Highlands neighbourhood this past weekend and I ate one of the best burgers I’ve had in a year atop the rooftop patio of a little place over there. Add to that a tasty sour beer and garlic fries and it was a divine meal worth reporting here again.

  • head over feets, two

    Apart from a few sweltering days, the weather has been mostly cooperative for some good outdoors summer adventure. Of course, my return to the pool has meant that I have exerted quite a bit of that sweat equity back into a refreshing laps at the local pool where my rec pass is grinding out the milage.

    The last few days I logged…

    After swimming on Tuesday morning, I got it into my head that I should go back later that afternoon to reaquaint myself with the strength equipment at the gym. Mid-afternoon in the summer holiday season was not ideal for this, but I did get a full lap of sets done while tripping over the hoards of gym-rat boys hogging the equipment and taking selfies. But after sufficient reps I came up with a kind of quantitative measure for overall effort distilled as a single number—y’know, for my spreadsheet—that summarizes how much strength work I did. It’s not magic, but it gives me something to chart.

    The heat subsided on briefly on Wednesday evening and that brought out a respectable crew to the run club at the store.  Our regular group leader was sick, so I helped pinch hit and led the front of the group while KB, the manager took over and pushed from the back. She was tapering for a fifty miler this weekend, so didn’t want to be pushing it near the head even just for a seven klick run around the neighbourhood.

    I was back at the pool the next morning, dutifully doubling my distance over my introductory session just two days prior. That was almost off the table entirly because even as I was crawling into bed the night before my arms were raging with exertion pains and I had to take something even just to get comfortable to sleep—which I did, and felt well enough to log five hundred meters worth of laps Thursday morning before coffee.

    I here use the words “guilted” and “motivated” interchangably. Either one, I found myself organizing our regular Thursday evening running adventure, sans adventure, with just a regular meetup at the Mill Creek starting point. Most of the crew was getting ready for a road trip down south to the S7 Ultramarathon so anything too extreme and ankle-twisting was off the table. 

    I rested until Sunday morning and when no one else showed up for our standard run, I swapped my track shorts for swim trunks and logged yet another increment upwards in my watery distances.  I have been building with the goal of hitting a respectable time & distance combination that makes a punch on the swim pass card worthwhile, and right now 800m in a little under 25 minutes seems to fit the bill.

    I repeated that swimming distance this morning, Tuesday, and my goal for the day is an exercise triathlon: I swam this morning, biked to the cafe to write this post, and will go for a run later this morning. Details on that to follow.

  • weekend wrap, ten

    I spent this past weekend either prone on the couch entering a vegetative state whilst playing video games, or scouting out the north side of the city for various barely-connected reasons. The weather was hot enough to be uncomfortable, but not so hot to be an excuse, and the smattering of rain here and there only helped me avoid mowing the lawn and feel guilty about spending time in front of the screens.

    All that laziness aside, we did accomplish a few things this past weekend…

    After a chill Friday evening, Saturday picked up considerably.

    The Kid had a party to go to across town, so we dropped her off and headed up to the north side, a part of town we only rarely visit and only rarely because it is just a pain to drive all over town when the only big difference is the names on the restaurants. But we were over there, so we went for burgers at a place called Fox Burger up in the Highlands and sat out on the rooftop patio sipping beers and enjoying the sun.

    A little stroll around the area brought us back to where we had parked and then we made a kind of backwards trek to our own party to hang out with friends who were having a board game gathering.

    That was short-lived however, and we only stayed long enough to play one round of a mediocre and what seemed to be a pretty unbalanced chaos game called Dragon and Flagon—which I lost miserably at, which may have clouded my impressions.

    We skipped out before they ordered dinner and went back home to spend some quality time with the dog before we were off again to the theatre. The touring production of The Lion King was in town and we have had tickets for about a year—and Saturday was the night.

    After the show we took another meandering detour to the northside, skirting around a literal detour on the bridge where the cops had it shut down with a “forensics” investigation—ugh—and picked up the Kid from her party before she turned into a pumpkin at midnight.

    Sunday morning a got a little shafted running again. Everyone was off in the mountains doing or working the big Sinister 7 ultramarathon, so it was either run solo again or change into my swimming gear and do laps. I chose the latter.

    After drying off and scarfing some lunch we went shopping for clothes. I have been stumbling into some professional efforts lately and needed some fresh work-appropriate threads. This took us on an adventure to West Edmonton Mall where I found a great pair of dress pants but the colour I wanted was in the wrong size and the size I wanted was in the wrong colour. Back to the northside we went where the store staff had checked inventory and sent us up to Londonderry Mall, the mall that time forgot, where my new digs were waiting.

    The Kid and I took a pair of dogs for a walk, one of them being ours and the other being a favour.

    Then we cooked a nice bit of salmon for dinner on the barbecue and settled back in for the evening.

    Not bad for a lazy weekend in July.

  • reviews: wet hot summer

    Maybe I’m solar powered. I certainly feel like I have a lot more energy these last couple of months with the sun out and my motivation levels surging. I’ve been reading a lot and listening a lot and enjoying interesting shows on the teevee. I can’t be bothered to write a review of every bit of media I touch, but I have had some thoughts about a couple of things.

    Recently I’ve been enjoying and thinking about:

    audiobook: anathem

    Neal Stephenson’s 2008 reality-bending science fiction novel Anathem is, I will admit, an acquired taste. The phone-book thick tome is filled with huge ideas wrapped in multi-dimensional physics shaped by a parallel (and some—not me—would argue needlessly strange) vocabulary that darn-near requires a glossary to translate. I love it. I might even call it my favourite book. It would make a terrible movie because the best thing about the story is the internal monologue of the narrator and main character expositioning the world as he sheds a veil of naivity on his quest to participate in a dimension-spanning quest to save the world. I have listened to this book—yes, listened—no fewer than fifteen times. And I have done so because almost as great as the story and the concept and the implementation by Stephenson is the narration in the audiobook by William Dufris, who—I was yesterday years old when I learned from a social media post—apparently passed away in early 2020. I am almost embarrassed to admit that I just learned this fact, that a man who’s voice has been in my ears for likely over five hundred hours of audiobook enjoyment spanning nearly two decades of repeated listening, has been gone for over five years. Dufris had a unique voice, and maybe it struck me as so profoundly personal because at the same time I was discovering the joys of repeated listening to the Anathem audiobook around about 2010, the Kid was three years old and mainlining that goofy kid’s show Bob the Builder, whose title character was voiced by—you guessed it—William Dufris. We live in an oddly complex time, when some of the people we come to feel a kind of respect and affection for are people who are neither the people we know in real life or can likely be known with any greater depth than by the simple contributions they make in their arts. I didn’t know Mr. Dufris, but as I wrote above, I have been settling into my quiet moments of headphones-in personal entertainment with his voice in my head for a third of my life. I didn’t know him, and he didn’t know me, and he was just doing his job, which was to entertain and bring words on the page to life as characters with voices and vibes—and he seemingly did this so well that he is probably one of three voice actors I could name without the aid of a search engine. If you never listened to any of this work, do yourself a favour and look up the Anathem audiobook—or if you’re not into crazy complex sci-fi, just go download some Bob the Builder. It’s all great.

    film: deep cover

    It may have preluded much of my recent writing here, but the Kid spent a good chunk of her high school career in the improv theatre club. To be honest, I was never much of a fan. I’m a deep narrative guy. I like complex plots and clever stories and big ideas brought to life in meaningful ways that make you think, and my handful of experiences being dragged to improv nights for work events or hitting up shows at the local Fringe festival were always a middling, yeah—ok—sure.  But then, of course, it becomes the passion of your only child and next thing you know you are going to home shows and watching live streams of the high school improv games and buying tickets to local shows because “I’ll never turn down an improv ticket” she tells you when you offer.  On of Karin’s coworkers knew of our family’s recent dabblings in the improv theatre world and recommended we check out Deep Cover.  You can look up more elaborate details about the cast and plot elsewhere, but here is the gist: a trio of stuggling improv comedy actors (played by Howard, Bloom, and Mohammed) are recurited by an undercover police detective (played by Sean Bean) into a some light police sting work, and fumble, bumble, and over-act their way into deep inflitration of a major underworld drug smuggling ring. Hijinks ensue. British humour abounds. Of course, the Kid watched the whole thing with us (which if you are responsible for a teenager these days you know that getting one to focus on a single screen for the duration of a movie is a feat in an of itself) and routinely quipped about how “this is going to be my life in three years, just watch!” The story is funny enough to grip but the bigger message hidden in the comedy may be simply a commentary on how we undervalue certain skills. I mean, I don’t want to overthink it here: the story is a romp and a laugh, but at the heart of it is a tale of three people who were able to make it big and get criminally rich using their skills for a kind of misguided accidental evil, while at the same time those skills were viewed with a kind of societal pity when they tried to use them for good things, like to enterain others. Or, maybe its just a cautionary tale for improv actors everywhere: that the whole world is a stage after all.

  • the emdash conundrum

    What is that mysterious double-dash and why isn’t it a red flag for inhuman writing?

    Maybe you’ve heard this one before: as I write these words there’s a post actively circulating written by some guy who can tell you “one simple trick” for spotting generative AI content online.

    “Look for the emdash!” he writes. “It’s a dead giveaway.”

    Thus we come to the problem of the emdash.

    Oh, you know what an emdash is, right? Oh, sure, you know—but that guy reading over your shoulder doesn’t so I’ll explain here so that he can keep following along.

    Simply, an emdash is just punctuation. 

    We use all sorts of punctuation in English writing and the kinds of punctuation one uses is often a matter of the form and formality of said writing. There are punctuations that get used to mark the end of sentences, say, most commonly periods, exclamation marks, and question marks. There are “quotation marks” both double and ‘single’ that call out words or phrases as a kind of contextual clue that these are someone else’s thoughts, words, ideas, or have broader meaning beyond the text one is reading. And then there are all sorts of helper punctuations that get used to help simulate the cadence of speech patterns like pauses and passes towards new ideas. These include commas, parentheses, colons, semi-colons, ellipses, and—you guessed it—emdashes.

    Emdashes are probably the least well known, and infrequently used of the bunch, and basically are just a double-dash. A single dash might tie a pair of words together, where an emdash might tie a pair of concepts or sentence-fragments together, and are often employed (at least as I have found) as a more informal version of the semi-colon, a hint to the reader that a conversational tone is implied as one reads and very much used like a pregnant pause or a “get ready for this” beat in the reading.

    And I’ll tell you what else: speaking as a writer myself, they are fun to use stylistically once one starts to think in that vibe and to think of someone reading the words on the page better matching the cadence in the writer’s head. Also, with modern variable-width fonts pretty much standard now, they make even more sense than even a decade or two ago with their less-relevant strict type-setting rules. In other words, people are using them a lot more these days, particularly for casual writing.

    One guess what is busy slurping up a lot of modern, casual writing these days and using it to emulate human conversational writing styles.

    Yeah—AI.

    So. Here we are at the emdash problem: when an increasing majority of content is rapid-generated by AI engines, and those engines are emulating the most modern of casual writing that they have pilfered and scraped from public websites, it was then almost inevitable that (a) those generated AI texts were going to use punctuation trends that are common in text that was written in the last decade and (b) any human reader who is used to more formal writing would immediately misidentify this less-common, human-mimicked punctuation as a red flag gotcha for generative text.

    Yet, it will never be so easy. Don’t let down your guard.

    I can tell you this with confidence because almost everything I’ve written (at least, written casually) in the last couple of years has made frequent use of the emdash as a stylistic choice. I like the emdash. I use the emdash. And your objection to my use of the emdash is no more valid than telling an artist they use too much blue paint or a musician that their choice of chord progression is wrong: these are stylistic choices and—fuck off, I’ll write how I want to write.

    People—human people—use the emdash and it is not a dead giveaway for anything, not even AI.

    Like everything else we see online, we need to be a little suspect and cautious: we now have the job to use our brains to unravel the source of authorship, and yeah—guess what!—there is no easy quick trick to deducing origin anymore. It’s a toss up if a human or an algorithm wrote it.

    The author of this particular viral meme accusation against all emdash-containing text is not entirely wrong. I mean, kinda mostly wrong, but not completely wrong. There will almost certainly be a trend towards greater use (and misuse) of emdashes in generative text for a while and for the very reasons I wrote above… but emdashes are no smoking gun nor flawless clue. They are but a single part of a complex profile of the origins of the modern written word, a profile that will get more complex as each day passes and more algorithmically generated content floods our feeds. We need to use our very human brains to detect these things and always be skeptical of sources and authors, but this means doing research to understand those sources by seeking to find profiles and consistent histories of the real people writing things, testing ideas against multiple perspectives, and shining sunlight on simple and stupid solutions to the complex problems we will face in the challenging of our own humanity.

    AIs didn’t invent the emdash, and insisting they did is an insult to the thousands of real humans who have adopted this as part of a stylistic toolkit and are trying to write interesting things in what is already an uphill battle against the processors.