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« divers machins »

Arrêtons de faire les mijaurées et lisons nos auteurs favoris sur iPhone

10 November 2009, posté par Marc


Capture d’écran de l’application eReader sur iPhone. Image : droits réservés

Depuis que je suis petit, je collectionne les livres anciens. Les livres anciens et bizarres. Parfois des bouquins tout simplement bizarres et pas forcément anciens. Bref, j’aime les bouquins depuis toujours. J’adore le papier de chiffon, j’aime la typographie en plomb. J’ai presque développé une forme de saturnisme et aussi une allergie à la poussière de papier. En gros, je ne suis pas du genre à jeter tous mes livres dans une benne et à faire un autodafé à la 95 sans plomb, juste parce que ma Pomme chérie a sorti le meilleur téléphone portable/livre/baladeur/machine à café du marché. Pas mon genre, non. Pourtant, j’ai lu de la littérature sur mon iPhone. J’ai fait le pas. Et si vous hésitez, si vous faites encore votre mijaurée (comme je l’ai longtemps faite), parcourez les lignes qui suivent et peut-être que cela vous rassurera de savoir que c’est un accro de la cellulose qui les a pondues.

Pas plus tard qu’avant-hier, j’ai téléchargé l’application gratuite eReader depuis l’App Store de mon iPhone. Ce petit programme a été développé par Barnes & Noble qui, rappelons-le, est la plus grande chaîne de librairies des États-Unis. Vous vous en doutez : si B&N a créé eReader, ce n’est pas par philanthropie, mais surtout pour asseoir une sorte d’équivalent d’iTunes pour les bouquins. Le site ereader.com vous permet de créer un compte (en communiquant seulement votre adresse électronique), puis de télécharger des livres au format eReader (.pdb) que vous transmettez directement sur votre iPhone. Comment ça marche ? Une fois que vous avez acheté un bouquin électronique (grosso modo au même prix que la version papier) depuis le site ereader.com, vous pouvez télécharger, depuis votre iPhone, le fichier dûment acquis (ne vous inquiétez pas : c’est très facile ; eReader vous demande, sur votre portable, d’introduire l’adresse électronique avec laquelle vous vous êtes inscrit/e sur ereader.com, puis d’entrer votre mot de passe, et le tour est joué ; eReader télécharge aussitôt les bouquins que vous venez d’acheter en ligne).

La lecture est-elle confortable, me demanderez-vous ? Oui, parfaitement. Vous pouvez calibrer la police utilisée par eReader, l’agrandir, la diminuer, changer la couleur de fond, définir une mise en forme de jour, et une autre de nuit (ce que j’ai fait pour la nuit : un fond noir avec des caractères gris ; on ne se casse pas les yeux et l’on peut « bouquiner » toutes lumières éteintes sans ennuyer son mari / sa femme / concubine / maîtresse / régulière — le pied, non ? Mieux qu’une clope après l’amour, hm ?). Vous pouvez bien entendu stocker une ribambelle de bouquins sur votre iPhone. De quoi faire le tour du monde sans jamais manquer de lecture (pour autant que votre iPhone soit chargé, certes).

Mon conseil : si vous aimez lire en anglais, mais que parfois certains mots vous rebutent, achetez pour quelques dollars un dico d’anglais sur le site d’eReader. Ce dico sera ensuite accessible directement depuis le livre que vous lirez, en pointant simplement du doigt le mot qui vous pose problème. Une fois le dictionnaire installé, téléchargez… des livres gratuits. En toute légalité.

Plusieurs sites permettent de se procurer gratuitement des livres au format eReader : Ebooks libres et gratuits (pour le français) et ManyBooks.net (pour l’anglais principalement, mais pas seulement). Pour télécharger depuis eReader sur iPhone un livre de Ebooks libres et gratuits, il suffit de cliquer sur le bouton « + » servant à ajouter un livre, puis de tapoter sur « Another Site ». Là, entrez l’adresse :

http://ebooksgratuits.com/palmreader/cont_rep_pdb_iphone.php

Depuis ManyBooks.net, le téléchargement est très aisé. Ensuite, le passage sur eReader s’avère un poil plus compliqué, mais pas tant que ça. La marche à suivre est indiquée sur ereader.com (qui n’est pas mauvais joueur, reconnaissons-le).

Voilà. Il s’agissait du témoignage d’un geek amoureux depuis belle lurette des livres en papier, mais qui ne rechigne pas à transporter dans sa poche une petite bibliothèque pleine de bouquins hypertextuels. Je n’ai pas testé les autres logiciels ni les autres formats disponibles. Je ne veux même pas entendre parler du Kindle d’Amazon, d’abord parce que je le trouve laid, mais aussi parce que je ne vois pas pourquoi je trimballerais ce machin dans ma poche en plus de mon iPhone (lequel ne me quitte que lorsque je prends ma douche et dans d’autres circonstances qui ne vous concernent pas, hein).

Sur ce, bonne lecture ! Cela dit, ça ne sert à rien de me poser des questions techniques par le biais des commentaires : je n’aurai pas le temps d’y répondre. Je suis bien trop occupé à lire Charles Stross sur mon iPhone, d’abord.

Yuri Suzuki

26 August 2009, posté par Marc

Sound Chaser
Le Sound Chaser de Yuri Suzuki, photo : droits réservés

Il n’a pas encore trente ans. Il est né au Japon et vit à Londres. Yuri Suzuki est designer mais s’occupe aussi de musique électronique. Il a suivi des études de design en Angleterre après avoir travaillé — entre autres — chez Yamaha. Si vous faites un tour sur son site, vous découvrirez des inventions (car nous parlons bien d’un inventeur fou) qui mêlent finement technologie, musique et poésie postmoderne. Un exemple parmi d’autres, le Sound Chaser, comprenez « le chasseur de sons » :

Étonnant, non ?

Merci L’Œil du Xeul

Unite Inhabitee #31

23 April 2009, posté par Corbor

Classe d’âge

13 October 2008, posté par Marc

Zelda Kaplan (92 ans), ancienne humanitaire et reine de la nuit
Zelda Kaplan (92 ans), ancienne humanitaire et reine de la nuit. Photo © BlackBook, 2008

Quand on est gosse, — je veux dire lorsqu’on est tout petit —, nos parents achètent nos vêtements sans nous demander ce que nous en pensons. Plus tard, à l’âge de déraison, nous tentons vainement de combler notre vide identitaire en singeant des castes musicales ou économiques.

À l’âge du travail et de la reproduction, nous revêtons l’uniforme que nos supérieurs ont choisi pour nous avec autant de goût que d’empathie. Ce n’est qu’à l’automne de la vie (ou plutôt : au printemps de la nouvelle) que l’homo sapiens peut enfin se saper en toute indépendance, avec la liberté de ceux qui n’ont plus rien à prouver ni à perdre.

Un nouveau blogue tente de saisir, avec admiration, avec étonnement, le style parfois original et souvent libéré de nos aînés. Quelques clichés qui rafraîchiront les esthètes dégoûtés par le style trash-pute de l’été 2008 : Advanced Style.

Merci Neatorama

Un peu de baume dark folk

11 October 2008, posté par Stahlhelm


Douglas P. en pleine forme.

En ces temps d’apocalypse et de fonte financières, il est heureux de constater que certains humanistes, aussi altruistes que de la jaquette, s’occupent de notre culture et de notre cœur en les embrassant de leurs bras généreux.


Douglas P. en pleine forme, beaucoup plus fringant, mais avec David Tibet (Current 93) cette fois.

M. Douglas P., hérault vieillissant d’une génération d’enfants de la nuit noire et obscure, fier porteur de la bannière du mythique et certes controversé groupe dark folk Death in June vient de mettre 2.5 albums et 2 concerts de DIJ à télécharger sur son site. Pour rien. Nada! Et d’ici à ce qu’il sorte un album qui s’appellerait Die Unterhosen, il n’y a qu’un pas botté.

FREE DIJital downloads…

To commemorate the 10th Anniversary of the release of the DEATH IN JUNE album ‘TAKE CARE AND CONTROL’ this month in 1998 we’re offering FREE downloads of that deleted album (both DIJitally and physically) plus artwork, as well as FREE DIJital downloads of other DEATH IN JUNE material associated with that period and more besides.

Unité Inhabitée #28

19 September 2008, posté par Corbor


http://view.break.com/569516 – Watch more free videos

C’est dans ta tête

12 September 2008, posté par Corbor

Un vieux post de boredstop déterré par les maniaques de metafilter.

Posters polonais

7 September 2008, posté par Corbor

Pendant la Guerre froide, il n’était pas question de laisser les affiches de films américains tels quels en Pologne. C’était déjà assez grave d’avoir ces films de propagande dans les cinémas pour, en plus, tapisser les rues de leur esthétique capitaliste.

Des artistes polonais refaisaient donc systématiquement les affiches des films étrangers pour garantir que la consistance artistiques des rues de Varsovie serait respectée. Résultat : même le pire navet américain semblait alors devenir une pièce de théâtre conceptuel :

Critters

Jack Burton dans Les griffes du mandarin

Highlander

Wargames

Si ça vous plaît, vous pouvez acheter les affiches originales ici.
Via.

Unité Inhabitée #27

31 August 2008, posté par Corbor

Patton donne un message aux générations futures

21 August 2008, posté par Corbor

Patton Oswalt est sans doute le meilleur stand-up comedian encore en activité. Il est surtout connu du grand public pour avoir fait la voix de Rémy le rat, en anglais dans Ratatouille.
Cette petite notoriétè lui a valu d’être invité par son ancien lycée afin de donner un discours aux élèves. Discours qu’il a posté sur son blog et que je me permet de reproduire sans son autorisation parce que j’aurais aimé entendre ce discours quand j’étais au lycée.

First off, I want to thank the teachers and faculty of Broad Run High School for first considering and then inviting me to speak here. It was flattering, I am touched and humbled, and you have made a grave mistake.

I’m being paid for this, right? Oh, wait, there’s some advice, right off the bat – always get paid. If you make enough money in this world you can smoke pot all day and have people killed.

I’m sorry, that was irresponsible.

You shouldn’t have people killed.

Boom! Marijuana endorsement eleven seconds into my speech! Too late to cancel me now!

It’s dumb-ass remarks like that which kept me out of the National Honor Society and also made me insanely wealthy. If I move to Brazil.

I graduated from Broad Run High School 21 years ago. That means, theoretically, I could be – each and every one of you – your father. And I’m speaking especially to the black and Asian students.

So now I’m going to try to give all of you some advice as if I contained fatherly wisdom, which I do not. I contain mostly caffeine, Cheet-o dust, fear and scotch.

I know most of you worked very hard to get here today but guess what? The Universe sent you a pasty goblin to welcome you into the world. Were The Greaseman and Arch Campbell not available?

So, 1987. That’s when I got my diploma. But I want to tell you something that happened the week before I graduated. It was life-changing, it was profound, and it was deeper than I realized at the time.

The week before graduation I strangled a hobo. Oh wait, that’s a different story. That was college. I’m speaking at my college later this month. I’ve got both speeches here. Let me sum up the college speech – always have a gallon of bleach in your trunk.

High school. A week before I graduated high school I had dinner, in Leesburg, with a local banker who was giving me a partial scholarship. I still don’t understand why. Maybe he had me confused with another student, someone who hadn’t written his AP English paper on comparisons between Jay Gatsby and Spider-Man. But, I was getting away with it, and I love money and food, so double win.

And I remember, I’m sitting at this dinner, with a bunch of other kids from the other local high schools. And I’m trying my pathetic best to look cool and mysterious, because I was 17 and so into the myth of myself. Remember, this dinner and this scholarship was happening to me.

And I figured this banker guy was a nice guy but hey, I’m the special one at the table. I had a view of the world, where I was eternally Bill Murray in Stripes. I’d be the one with the quips and insights at this dinner. This old man in a suit doesn’t have anything to teach me beyond signing that check. I’ve got a cool mullet and a skinny leather tie from Chess King. And check out my crazy suspenders with the piano keys on them. Have you ever seen Blackadder? ‘Cuz I’ll recite it.

And then this banker – clean-shaven, grey suit and vest – you’d never look twice at him on the street – he told me about The Five Environments.

He leans forward, near the end of the dinner, and he says to me, “There are Five Environments you can live in on this planet. There’s The City. The Desert. The Mountains. The Plains. And The Beach.

You can live in combinations of them. Maybe a city in the desert, or in the mountains by the ocean. Or you could choose just one. Out in the plains somewhere, perhaps.

“But you need to get out there and travel, and figure out where you thrive.

“Some places you’ll go to and you’ll feel yourself wither. Your brain will fog up, your body won’t respond to your thoughts and desires, and you’ll feel sad and angry.

“You need to find out which of the Five Environments are yours. If you belong by the ocean, then the mountains will ruin you. If you’re suited for the blue solitude of the plains, then the city will be a tight, roaring prison cell that’ll eat you alive.

He was right. I’ve traveled and tested his theory and he was absolutely right. There are Five Environments. If you find the right combination, or the perfect singularity, your life will click…into…place. You will click into place.

And I remember, so clearly, driving home from that dinner, how lucky I felt to have met someone who affirmed what I was already planning to do after high school. I was going to roam and blitz and blaze my way all over the planet.

Anywhere but here. Anywhere but Northern Virginia. NoVa. You know what a “nova” is? It’s when a white dwarf star gobbles up so much hydrogen from a neighboring star it causes a cataclysmic nuclear explosion. A cosmic event.

Well, I was a white dwarf and I was definitely doing my share of gobbling up material. But I didn’t feel like any events in my life were cosmic. The “nova” I lived in was a rural coma sprinkled with chunks of strip mall numbness. I had two stable, loving parents, a sane and wise little brother and I was living in Sugarland Run, whose motto is, “Ooooh! A bee! Shut the door!”

I wanted to explode. I devoured books and movies and music and anything that would kick open windows to other worlds real or imagined. Sugarland Run, and Sterling and Ashburn and Northern Virginia were, for me, a sprawling batter’s box before real experience began.

And I followed that banker’s advice. I had to get college out of the way but once I got my paper I lit out hard.

Oh this world. Ladies and gentlemen, this world rocks and it never lets up.

I’ve seen endless daylight and darkness in Alaska. I’ve swum in volcanic craters in Hawaii and saw the mystical green flash when the sun sinks behind the Pacific. I got ripped on absinthe in Prague and watched the sun rise over the synagogue where the Golem is supposedly locked in the attic. I stood under the creepy shadow of Christchurch Spitafields, in London’s East End, and sank a pint next door at The Ten Bells, where two of Jack the Ripper’s victims were last seen drinking. I’ve fed gulls at the harbor in Galway, Ireland. I’ve done impromptu Bloomsday tours of Dublin.

I cried my eyes out on the third floor of the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam, all those paintings that Vincent and his circle have to each other as gifts because they were all broke some cold Christmas long ago. I’ve eaten crocodile in the Laneways of Melbourne Australia and ortolans on the Left Bank of Paris, France.

I’ve been to Canada.

I’ve been to every state in this country. I’ve been to hidden, subterranean restaurants in New York with the guys from Anthrax and eaten at L.A. taquieras with “Weird” Al Yankovic. I held the guitar that Hendrix torched at Monterey Pop and watched Woodstock ’99 burn to the ground. I’ve lingered at the corner of Bush and Stockton in San Francisco where Miles Archer took a bullet in The Maltese Falcon, and brooded over the grave of H.P. Lovecraft in Providence, R.I. I’ve hung out with Donny Osmond and Jim Goad, Suge Knight and Aimee Mann, Bill Hicks and Don Rickles.

I’ve done stand-up comedy in laundromats, soup kitchens and frat houses, and onstage at Lollapalooza and Coachella. I’ve toured with bands, been to the Oscars and the Superbowl, and been killed in movies by vampires, forest fires and air-to-air missiles.

And I missed the banker’s lesson. 100%, I completely missed it.

In my defense, he didn’t even know he was teaching it.

Telling me about the 5 Environments and urging me to travel? That was advice. It wasn’t a lesson. Advice is everywhere in this world. Your friends, family, teachers and strangers are all happy to give it.

A lesson is yours and yours alone. Some of them take years to recognize and utilize.

My lesson was this – experience, and reward and glory are meaningless unless you’re open and present with the people you share them with in the moment.

Let me go back to that dinner, 21 years ago. There I was, shut off from this wise, amazing old man. Then he zaps me with one of the top 5 pieces of information I’ve ever received in this life, and all I was thankful for was how it benefited me.

I completely ignored the deeper lesson which is do not judge, and get outside yourself, and realize that everyone and everything has its own story, and something to teach you, and that they’re also trying – consciously or unconsciously – to learn and grow from you and everything else around them. And they’re trying with the same passion and hunger and confusion that I was feeling – no matter where they were in their lives, no matter how old or how young.

I’m not saying that you guys shouldn’t go out there and see and do everything there is to see and do. Go. As fast as you can. I don’t know how much longer this world has got, to be honest.

All of you have been given a harsh gift. It’s the same gift the graduating class of 1917, and 1938, and 1968 and now you guys got – the chance to enter adulthood when the world teeters on the rim of the sphincter of oblivion. You’re jumping into the deep end. You have no choice but to be exceptional.

But please don’t mistake miles traveled, and money earned, and fame accumulated for who you are.

Because now I understand how the miraculous, horrifying and memorable lurk everywhere. But they’re hidden to the kind of person I was when I graduated high school. And now – and it’s because of my traveling and living and some pretty profound mistakes along the way – they’re all laid open to me. They’re mine for the feasting. In the Sistine Chapel and in a Taco Bell. In Bach’s Goldberg Variations and in the half-heard brain dead chatter of a woman on her cell phone behind me on an airplane. In Baghdad, Berlin and Sterling, Virginia.

I think now about the amazing thunderstorms in the summer evenings. And how – late at night, during a blizzard, you can stand outside and hear the collective, thumping murmur of a million snowflakes hitting the earth, like you’re inside a sleeping god’s thoughts.

I think of the zombie movies I shot back in the gnarled, grey woods and the sad, suburban punks I waited on at Waxie Maxie’s. I think of the disastrous redneck weddings I deejay’d for when I was working for Sounds Unlimited and the Lego spaceships my friends and I would build after seeing Star Wars.

I think about my dad, and how he consoled me when I’d first moved to L.A. and called him, saying I was going into therapy for depression, and how ashamed I was. And he laughed and said, “What the hell’s to be ashamed of?” And I said, “Man, you got your leg machine-gunned in Vietnam. You never went to therapy. Humphrey Bogart never went to therapy.” And my dad said, “Yeah, but Bogie smoked three cartons of cigarettes a day.” And how my mom came down to the kitchen when I was studying for my trig final, at 2 o’clock in the morning, and said, “Haven’t you already been accepted to college?” And I said, “Yeah, but this test is really going to be hard.” And she asked, “What’s the test for again?” And I said, “Calculus” and she closed my notebook and said, “You’ll never use this. Ever. Go to bed or watch a movie.” And how when I got my first ever acting gig, on Seinfeld, my brother sent me a postcard of Minnie Pearl, and he wrote on it, “Never forget, you and her are in the same profession.”

I didn’t realize how all of these places and people and events were just as crucial in shaping me as anything I roamed to the corners of the Earth to see. And they’ve shaped you, and will shape you, whether you realize it now or later. All of you are richer and wiser than you know.

So I will leave you with some final advice. You’ll decide later if this was a lesson. And if you realize there was no lesson in any of this, then that was a lesson.

But I’d like all of you to enter this world, and your exploration of the Five Environments, better armed then I was. And without a mullet. Which I see you’re all way ahead of me on.

First off: Reputation, Posterity and Cool are traps. They’ll drain the life from your life. Reputation, Posterity and Cool = Fear.

Let me put that another way. Bob Hope once said, “When I was twenty, I worried what everything thought of me. When I turned forty, I didn’t care what anyone thought of me. And then I made it to sixty, and I realized no one was ever thinking of me.” And then he pooed his pants, but that didn’t make what he said any less profound.

Secondly: The path is made by walking. And when you’re walking that path, you choose how things affect you. You always have that freedom, no matter how much your liberty it curtailed. You…get to choose…how things affect you.

And lastly, and I guarantee this. It’s the one thing I know ‘cause I’ve experienced it:

There Is No Them.

I’m going to get out of your way now. Get out there. Let’s see which one of you is up here in twenty years. If you’re lacking confidence, remember – I wouldn’t have picked me.


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