Last night, on a bit of a whim, Toni and I decided to spend a night on the C & O Canal Trail.

We were a little torn between leaving from our house and camping at the first campground (like we do when we go to Greenbelt) or driving to the trail and biking north until we found a campsite we liked. Ultimately, we decided that a ride on the C & O Canal towpath would be a nice change of pace from the CCT, so we drove to Great Falls and started our ride there. I know we’re totally late to the party on this, but this trail is really a dream. With campsites every five miles or so, there’s basically no need to plan anything: no matter when you decide to stop, you’re never more than a few miles from the next water pump. We were a little worried that the trail would be packed, but it was almost empty—probably because of Mothers' Day.

After about 16 miles (including a slight detour into the Swain’s Lock #21 campsite for a box of matches to replace the one we forgot), it started to get dark and we pulled over at a campsite (which turned out to be Chisel Branch) to pitch our tent.

http://maps.google.com/?q=http://exanimo.com/files/cycling-gps/20110507-1728.kml

A guy was already there with a fire started, reading a book and at first Toni and I were worried that he might hate us for intruding—especially because we had our whole array of gear and he seemed to be traveling way lighter. Thankfully, we were completely off and, after we started boiling up our REI bag-o-food, he came over and struck up a conversation. (He runs a sweet biking blog you should check out. Toni and I make a brief cameo in one of today’s posts.) We ended up sitting around his fire and chatting until it died down and we retired to our respective sleeping quarters: Toni and I to our tent, and Willis to his hammock.

This morning we slept in until 9:00, packed our stuff, rode back to our car, and drove to an Indian buffet. I can’t imagine a better way to end a week—much less one during which I put in more than thirty hours of overtime!

 

"Yeah but what color should we make it?"

"I dunno. Purple?"

"Nah, too subtle. Better go with pink."

Every once in a while, Toni receives a voicemail from an unknown number.  The call originates from Pittsburgh (where we used to live).  What follows is one such message, received at 5:37 today and presented here without further comment.

Extracted using Decipher Voicemail

I came back from lunch this afternoon to a lot of noise about hostages being taken at the Discovery Channel building in downtown Silver Spring.  My first thought (and I'm sure the first thought of many fellow SS residents) was I wonder if it's that crazy protester guy.

I first heard about James Jay Lee a few years ago from my friend @daveglanz.  Lee (as he called himself) had made quite a scene around here in 2008 by passing out flyers, taking out local ads, and paying homeless people to protest against the Discovery Channel.  He blamed the channel for problems with the environment, calling them "the enemy."  Something was clearly wrong with him.

So when I learned of the hostage situation this morning, my first reaction was to see what Lee was up to…which led me right to his website, savetheplanetprotest.com.  What I found there was the now infamous "demands and sayings of Lee."

It seemed incredible.  But nothing in the list came out and said I'm taking hostages at the Discovery Channel building on September 1, 2010.  I looked at the source code for the site and saw some metadata that indicated the document had been created July 18 and posted the following tweet:

Don't want to jump to conclusions, but what are the chances that this Discovery Channel nut is "Lee"? Last saved 7/18 http://bit.ly/b4Ih2W

A little while later, I thought maybe I shouldn't be calling somebody who's willing to take hostages a nut in a publicly searchable forum, so I deleted it and posted something a little blander.  Which was dumb. There's no deleting something from the Internet, and tweetmeme had already found it.  So, apparently, had WUSA9—a local news station.  A few minutes after my original tweet, they posted their version:

Now I don't know for sure that they got the link from my tweet, but it seems pretty likely given the timing.  Issues of sourcing aside, this struck me as a remarkably irresponsible tweet.  Whereas my tweet had presented the information as a possible connection, WUSA9 stated it unequivocally.  (Remember, this was hours before the man was identified as Lee, and before any mention of Lee had come up on WUSA9.)

Naturally, having been endorsed by a mainstream media outlet, the URL started to be circulated like wildfire.  What happened next felt surreal: people on twitter started to investigate the website and traced my path to it in reverse to Lee, taking that as proof that he was the gunman.  To reiterate: suspicions of Lee (either mine or somebody else's) had led to a website that was known to be his from long before today and that website was then traced back to Lee to confirm those suspicions.  Like I said, surreal.

Meanwhile, I was attempting to figure out when Lee had posted his demands.  I already knew they were his, but it was possible that they were three years old and unrelated.  My first step was to check Google's cache of the site: if it were a different version, I might be able to verify how recently the new page had been posted.  Sure enough, Google had cached a different version of the site on August 12:

That meant that the demands were definitely posted within the last three weeks.  It was starting to seem pretty unlikely that the gunman was anybody other than Lee.  I tweeted what I had found at 2:18:

According to Google's cache, Lee's http://savetheplanetprotest.com demands have gone up more recently than 8/12. #discovery

Finally, I went back to savetheplanetprotest.com to check the page's Last-Modified header.  I'll try not to go into a geeky explanation of what a Last-Modified header is—that's what wikipedia is for—and just summarize by saying that it's the way a website tells a browser when the page was last updated.  For various reasons, it's not completely trustworthy, but I had already used Google to narrow it down to a period of three weeks.  Sure enough, the header reported that the page was last modified today at 8:46 AM.  Seeming to clinch matters, other pages on the site reported last modified dates from March of 2008.  I posted the following at 2:35:

Hm…the Last-Modified header of http://savetheplanetprotest.com reads "Wed, 01 Sep 2010 13:46:30 GMT" #discovery /cc @wusa9

It was around that time that NBC confirmed Lee's identity:

At this point, I really don't know what to make of the day.  I'd never experienced citizen journalism on Twitter firsthand before, and it was shocking.  The rate at which memes spring into existence and spread was mindblowing—even to somebody who spends as much of his life on the Internet as I do.  It's likely I'll never know for certain what led WUSA9 to savetheplanetprotest.com or completely understand how that domain could be circulated before Lee's name.  How could they have come across the demands without first assuming Lee was the gunman (as I did)?  And—if they did start with his name and work back to the website—did they violate journalistic ethics by asserting without confirmation that it was the site of the gunman (thereby indirectly asserting that the gunman was Lee)?  Ultimately, all of our suspicions proved correct, so I'll probably never know the answers to these questions.  Nonetheless, the experience was eye-opening.

(Re: my last post)

I managed to make the return trip in an hour and twenty-two minutes.

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Having a half day and beautiful weather, I decided it was a good day to try biking to work again.

Sadly, I wasn't able to improve on my time at all. I made a mistake coming out of Sligo Creek Park and ended up doubling back all the way to University. At that point, I had a hard time deciding whether I should bite the bullet and take Viers Mill the whole way (which the route that Google suggests seems specifically tailored to avoid) or try to make my way back up to Randolph like Google wanted. I ended up opting for the worst of both worlds and winding my way through Wheaton for a while. Since I lived in Wheaton before moving south a few miles to Silver Spring, this whole leg of the journey already feels like I'm still in "my neighborhood" and, consequently, not making any progress, so my dilly-dallying was especially painful.

I had one more hiccup in the latter part of my route around mile 8 where I couldn't quite remember how to get into Twinbrook Park, but that was quickly corrected. From there it was clear sailing: the post-Viers Mill part of the ride is easily my favorite—mostly because I don't have to stop every other street, pull out my iPhone, and figure out where I should be going.

Needless to say, the ride was a lot of fun and a great way to start the day—despite my drunken path! Also, I remembered to start up Cyclemeter this time, which did an awesome job of mapping my route. Somehow, seeing it on a map gives me an extra bit of satisfaction…even if posting it online may open me up to your relentless mockery.

I've now had my nook for fifteen and a half books (that's around six months in time time) which makes my nook impressions about fourteen and a half a books late.  Oh well, you know what they say: better late…

Why nook?

Before I get into what I think about the nook, I should probably talk about why I wanted the nook in the first place.

…vs paper books

Like most people who like to read, I like books.  However, I'm a little less nostalgic about them than many.  Here's a list of things that books are, but that I don't like:

• house-filling
• a pain to keep organized (A corollary is that it's never easy to find the one I want.)
• hard to transport when we move
• destroyable
• awkward to hold
• not in my hand when I look at it after clicking "1-click" on Amazon

Every once in a while a little part of me will rise up and shout "But can electronic books reproduce the feeling of holding a rare edition in your hands? Can you pour over the creases in the cover and the names on the library stamp card?"  To which another part of me responds, "No you can't.  Now shut up, you sentimental idiot, and let's read."

…vs multimedia devices

E-Ink readers are a niche device and I expect that (despite the recent explosion of sales) they will never have the mass appeal of multimedia devices like the iPad.  But for those of us who do a lot of reading, a dedicated portable device with a non-backlit display makes sense.  In addition to staving off my inevitable ocular cancer for a few extra years, the E-Ink display also means the battery will last much longer. That means that you'll still be reading long after your camping buddy has watched his last YouTube video.

…vs the Kindle

There are certainly E-Ink devices other than the nook and Amazon's Kindle, but these are the two that everybody's got their eyes on, and it was no different for me.  Both use the same display (made by the same manufacturer), but there are a few differences that were significant for me:

• Hardware vs software keyboard.  Personally, I was worried that the hardware keyboard would be too distracting.  The nook's software keyboard, on the other hand, turns itself off when you're not using it.
• The operating system. For most users, this one probably doesn't matter at all.  But nook's Android OS raised my hopes for homebrew applications and leet haxoring.
• The nook has page numbers.  The Kindle has "Kindle locations."  Kindle locations were designed to give readers a way of identifying a part in the book regardless of the font size which, if adjusted, would cause the text to reflow and the page numbers to change.  With Kindle locations, you can tell your friend "go to location 1400" and they'll be able to get to the right sentence regardless of their display settings.  In reality, though, page numbers are far more intuitive and practical; you will likely wonder "how many pages" far more than you'll need to communicate exact locations to other people.
• The font.  I was actually surprised to find out that both the nook and Kindle only ship with one serif font.  On the Kindle, it's PMN Caecilia, and on the nook it's Amasis. Both are really great slab serifs, but IMO Caecilia is a bit on the quirky side for large blocks of copy and feels a little wide at smaller sizes.  Neither the nook nor Kindle, oddly enough, allow you to load a custom font.

You might have noticed that my list doesn't include what is probably the biggest difference between the two devices—the stores they're attached to.  It's an unfortunate (and hopefully temporary) circumstance that electronic books haven't attained the device interoperability bliss that we have with MP3s.  Readers with Amazon hardware purchase their books from Amazon and readers with Barnes and Noble hardware purchase their books from Barnes and Noble…for the most part.  If you're willing to make the extra effort (which I am), there are some great third-party retailers (and, of course, the wonderful gutenberg.org) where you can get books for any device, though you'll lose the bookmark-syncing benefits of your device manufacturer's distribution system.  For the technically inclined, there are also ways to liberate your books from their convenience-destroying constraints.

The Verdict

So far, I've absolutely loved reading on my nook, though there are large parts of its functionality that I can't comment on.  My use of the device is very specific: I don't want to play games; I don't want to check out periodicals; I don't want to listen to music.  I simply want to copy books (from various sources) onto the device and read them, and for this it's been fantastic.  The E-Ink display is crisp and I can easily read an entire book without having to recharge.  The page size has been a huge improvement over my iPhone (on which I previously read).  However, there are a few things that I think could be improved:

1. The large "next page" and "previous page" buttons on either side of the display feel like they should be swapped.  The "previous page" button is located just about at the center of the device—about where your thumb falls naturally when holding it.  This seems like a far more appropriate position for the "next page" button, which is (of course) the more used of the two.
2. The touch screen feels sluggish, especially if you're used to the responsiveness of Apple's touchscreens.  Luckily, there's not too much reason to use it.  Unfortunately, no E-Ink device is quite up to par for heavy note-taking (I often switch over to my iPhone's Stanza app to take notes).
3. The home button (the touch-sensitive "n" on the face of the device) is confusing.  It's obviously inspired by the iPhone's home button, but here it just feels useless.  If the touchscreen is dimmed, this button activates it (but so does touching the inactive screen, which feels far more intuitive).  So I often find myself hitting the button to dim the touchscreen (which it doesn't do), only to wind up back at the home screen.
4. There's no way to hide the page crud.  Within a book, the E-Ink display always shows your progress, as well as a status bar that contains the title of the book, the battery level, and the time.  None of these things are terribly distracting…but none of them are terribly necessary either.  I would love a setting that would let you hide these elements—especially the status bar—and have a cleaner, more book-like page.

Two of my complaints could be addressed by software updates; the other two are minor but will likely be improved upon in the next version of the device.  None of them have been sufficient to distract me from the stream of books I've read on my nook since it arrived.

Well, not really. At all. But given our hectic schedule, it was either now or never for me to try biking to work. (Never ≈ two weeks.) So I pulled myself out of bed at 6:35—in itself a remarkable achievement—and started on my way.

What started as "scattered showers" soon turned into a steady drizzle and I found myself getting pretty wet. I had my sac jac with me, but those things get hot! Besides, the temperature was warm enough that the rain wasn't all that unpleasant.

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Google lists the route I took as 14.7 miles long and estimates that it should take an hour and thirty-four minutes, which I think is probably right for an average. Having never taken it before, though, I had to constantly stop and look at my phone to make sure I was on the right track and ponder my next move. I also deviated from the recommended route a few times—both intentionally and accidentally—adding a little bit of distance and a half hour to my trip. Funny enough, the most confusing part of the ride was around my own (old) neighborhood, where I was basically navigating suburban Wheaton. Once I got onto Viers Mill it was pretty much a piece of cake, involving very few turns.

Biking to work this morning also gave me the opportunity to try out the office shower, which makes today the first day that I've ever admitted to being naked in the office. I used to think the office shower was weird, but now I think it's weird and useful.

I would love to bike to work every day, but given my schedule it's just not feasible. Even at an hour and a half, my daily commute would still be roughly three times as long, and I already cut it close when I have to drive into D.C. for my bass lessons and theory classes straight after work. Still, now that I know it's possible I can at least start to think about the occasional bike commute. It won't save a lot of gas, and it'll take a lot of willpower to pull myself out of bed on time, but it's fun. And maybe next time I'll have better weather.

I'm never quick enough to get into my iPhone's camera app to capture Winston dreaming but today I managed to get an audio recording. I missed the "yippy" part at the beginning but caught the "growly" part he ended with. Right after I stopped recording, he woke himself up and stared at me with confused (what else?) puppy-dog eyes.

When Apple announced the iBookstore two weeks ago, I was of two minds.  On the one hand, I was excited at the prospect of the mainstreaming of eBooks.  Will 2010 be the year that it becomes as easy to buy a digital copy of a book as a digital copy of a song?  Will Apple drag publishers into the 21st century—a wonderful place where every hardcover has a corresponding eBook?  I'll admit it: I was giddy.  But my excitement was counterbalanced by something gross and strange.  Disturbing.  I don't often use the phrase "abomination in the eyes of God," but how else could one describe something so…unnatural?  I'm speaking, of course, about the faux-wood bookshelf.

As soon as the news dropped, makers of eBook-related applications everywhere poured out of the (slightly yellow and strangely homogeneous) woodwork to claim that Apple had copied their design.  I can understand their anger; if Apple had stolen an original idea of mine (and ten or so other people), I would feel cheated too.  Of course, I wasn't one of the forty people to have the same idea, so I don't feel cheated.  No, what bothers me isn't Apple's adoption of a ubiquitous design element; what bothers me is Apples adoption of an awful design element.

Just a few of the many, many examples of fake-looking wood textures in book applications. (I'm partial to Faux-Oak, but Walnot is also nice.)

So why do I dislike this not-wood so much?  No not-trees had to die to make it.  I don't think it should have been used to build a not-house instead.  No, the reasons that I have for disliking it are simple: 1) I think it's ugly and 2) I think it's a failed UI metaphor.  The first one, I'll admit, is purely subjective—I have no doubt that somebody will read this on their wood grain contact paper-encased MacBook Pro and think, "This guy doesn't know what he's talking about!"  Or perhaps you're reading this after the Great Botanical Plague of 2061 and have no idea what an "analog tree" looks like.  Fair enough.  But on the second point, I think I'm on fairly stable ground.

Interface metaphors are designers' way of telling you that something unfamiliar isn't all that unfamiliar after all.  They make something look like an object in the real world in order to communicate that it behaves like that object.  That's why folders on a computer hold files, and why you get rid of files by throwing them in your trash can.  So I took a look at my bookshelf to try to figure out what this particular metaphor has to offer.

Okay…well.  It's messy.  Not really a quality you would want in an electronic book shelf, though.  It's tough to tell what books are on it because the bindings are all facing me…but the electronic versions don't really mimic that either.  Well, I guess it has shelves.  With books on them.

And that's pretty much it.  The bookshelf metaphor tells the user that books go there.  Well, unless it's empty.  Then it's just a shelf, and you put pretty much anything on a shelf.  So I guess we really need a shelf with a book on it.  And then we know that books go there.

The problem with this is that we don't need a shelf to tell us that this is a place for books—we just need books!  A similar concept underlies the design of iTunes which, incidentally, looks nothing like my CD rack.  The fact is that the bookshelf metaphor offers no insight into how the thing works; the faux-wood bookshelf is simply (and wholly) decorative.  Of course, decoration isn't a bad thing in and of itself, but this decoration (in addition to being ugly) carries the baggage of the fruitless metaphor—the restrictions of the real life object.  For example, it would be odd to scroll books horizontally across the shelf (though Shelfari doesn't seem to mind).  It would also be strange for this kind of view to include descriptive text or metadata.  The metaphor doesn't give us many options for vertically aligning books of different height—either they all rest on the shelf, or we include some copy about this being a special anti-gravity bookshelf.  In short: the plastic-wood bookshelf is a failed interface metaphor.

And it's so ugly.