Ryan Tate

"HTML is not just one output format among many; it is the format of our age… We have a..."

Sun, 31 Jan 2010 13:16:00 -0800

“

HTML is not just one output format among many; it is the format of our age…

We have a worldwide communications and distribution network where you can publish anything you want and — if you can manage to get anybody’s attention — get near-instant feedback. Writers just 20 years ago would have killed for that kind of feedback loop. Killed!

”

- Some of Mark Pilgrim’s insights into the future of book publishing, as woven into this article about his workstation setup. (Related.)

"Tate, a San Diego resident, also brings an acting background to the job, which is evident in her..."

Thu, 24 Dec 2009 10:05:00 -0800

“Tate, a San Diego resident, also brings an acting background to the job, which is evident in her expressions, emotions and imitations. She is a pleasure to watch… high energy, constant movement and good material tie her act together.”

- From the Los Angeles Times’ rave 1990 review of my mom’s stand-up comedy act (page 1, page 2). Yay mom!

C as a death monster (and Ruby as a companion demon)

Wed, 09 Dec 2009 07:52:00 -0800

Fran Allen: I kind of stopped when C came out. We were making so much good progress on optimizations and transformations. We were getting rid of just one problem after another...

Peter Seibel: Do you think C is a reasonable language if they had restricted its use to operating-system kernels?

Fran Allen: Oh, yeah. That would have been fine. In fact, you need to have something like that, something where experts can really fine-tune without big bottlenecks because those are they key problems to solve...

Fran Allen: By 1960, we had a long list of amazing languages: Lisp, APL, Fortran, COBOL, Algol 60. These are higher-level than C. We have seriously regressed, since C developed. C has destroyed our ability to advance the state of the art in automatic optimization, automatic parallelization, automatic mapping of a high-level language to the machine. This is one of the reasons compilers are... basically not taught much anymore in the colleges and universities...

Peter Seibel: Surely there are still courses on building a compiler?

Fran Allen: Not in lots of schools. It's shocking, there are still conferences going on, and people doing good algorithms, good work, but the payoff for that is, in my opinion, quite minimal. Because languages like C totally overspecify the solution of problems. Those kinds of languages are what is destroying computer science as a study.

Peter Seibel: But most newer languages these days are higher-level than C. Things like Java and C# and Python and Ruby.

Fran Allen: But they still overspecify. The core thing is that is specifies the location of data. If you look at these other languages, they stayed away from specifying the location of data and how to move it, where to put it in the machine. It was ultimately about its value at any point.

Peter Seibel: But very few languages other than C and C++ have raw pointers anymore. Java has garbage collection and the data moves around. Would you say that's overspecified?

Fran Allen: Yes. I believe there's an opportunity to do what we have done with computation in the optimization world with data. We don't manage data very well. We don't have good ways of managing data automatically -- establishing locality of data that's going to be used together.

Fran Allen: There are lots of threads of research now which are very exciting. But I think what's missing is the bigger, bolder concepts.... We need to start trying to break the boundaries of, "This'll be done here and that''ll be done there."

From the excellent Coders at Work: http://www.codersatwork.com/

More on Fran Allen: http://www.codersatwork.com/fran-allen.html

Angel, c. 1995-2009

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 13:29:00 -0700

We lost our fussy, demanding, jealous, absurdly cute and frighteningly affectionate cat Angel on Thursday. A dog killed her before my eyes. She was about 14 years old, and irreplacable.

Of our three indoor cats, Angel was the first to be adopted, and by all indications considered our other two felines to be usurpers. She’d hiss at them merely for walking by.

Her hostility was no surprise: Adopted as a decidedly solo pet, Angel had found herself with feline housemates within 24 hours of arriving at her new home. At the rescue shelter, she’d been so hostile to other cats she had to be sequestered to her own cage. At home, she almost immediately had to contend with Taro, whom Anne had found sick and abandoned under a freeway overpass. A few days later came the third cat, pregnant and meowing on Anne’s doorstep.

Angel hated these other animals but loved humans. My first meeting with her was typical: A fluffy cat with gigantic eyes stared at me from on top of Anne’s desk. One pat lead to another and soon she was on my lap — piecing my leg with her long, razor sharp claws, and purring. I learned the next day that her punctures had ruined my slacks and with them an entire suit. Angel lesson number one: Always have a blanket ready.

When I moved in with my now wife, Angel was part of the bargain. It was a win-win for me and the cat: Angel got extra attention that Anne, with two others to worry over, didn’t have time to provide. I got reassurance I was a welcome addition to the household.

Angel wasn’t shy about letting me know when I wasn’t living up to my end of the deal. When I became Gawker’s night editor, I made sure to give Angel a shout out online, but she wasn’t interested in fame. When my shift stretched on too long, she’d come to the door of my office and start meowing. She wanted attention, and I’m ashamed to say I wasn’t always friendly about responding to her entreaties. But I did sometimes foist her up on to my big glass desk (she loved new materials — see her sitting on the book above), or onto a blanket on my lap (claw protection!), as seen in the picture up top. And when I woke up the next afternoon she usually got some quality couch time.

I’m trying not to dwell on how she passed. She lived a good long life; we don’t know when she was born, but last year a vet estimated she was fully 11 to 15 years old. She was happy. Between the two of us, she got plenty of attention. And she had a yard and (at her insistence) neighborhood to roam, from which to pluck the occasional mouse, including two this past season.

On Thursday morning I was blogging for Gawker in my living room. I heard a series of noises common to our neighborhood: A dog barking, the rummaging of recycling bins, more barking. But my cats were suddenly alert, so I went outside. I soon spotted a gray, short-haired dog thrashing about across the street — with something brown and fluffy underneath. It was a vicious-sounding, decent-sized animal, and I started screaming the worst threats I could imagine, as though it mattered what I said. The dog, suddenly docile, gave me an almost friendly look and immediately ran off. I remember it was wearing a collar and clearly loose from its owner.

I was crestfallen to find, at the end of our neighbor’s driveway, Angel, immobile, her fur muddled and reeking of dog spit. I picked her up, frantic. As I remember it, Angel looked at me and made some faint vocal noises, not quite meows, as I rushed her home. I grabbed my keys, and sped off to the animal hospital. Despite immediate attention,she was dead on arrival. Snapped neck, internal bleeding, or both. I somehow had no clue she might be gone until the vet told me. I blame those big eyes, open right through to the end, for artificially inflating my spirits.

After driving to my wife’s office to deliver the news, I asked to be allowed to finish out my workday, and kept coffee meetings San Francisco.

Thursday night we buried Angel in the yard beside our house. We laid her down with lavender stalks and the sort of thing she always enjoyed sleeping on: fresh laundry, in the form of a newly-cleaned t-shirt. Tidying the kitchen this weekend, Anne retired Angel’s food bowl.

Teary apologies won’t do Angel or I much good, nor is there much point in obsessing about how I might have reacted more quickly to an incident that played out, start to finish, over about 20 seconds. So I hope I’m done doing both.

Angel will be everywhere Anne and I turn for a good long while, in clumps of fur on jackets and shirts, in small holes in various pairs of leather shoes, and in the punchline of jokes about the most demanding lady of the house. And, inevitably, she’ll be in my further regrets. Not because I failed to save her life, though that may well haunt me, but because I wish I had enjoyed Angel even more when she was still here. I had four wonderful years with her. And to think there was a time when I didn’t want cats. Thank you for all the distractions, Angel. Sometimes a guy needs to be knocked off course.

Here’s why sans serif fonts tend to suck for body copy:...

Thu, 06 Aug 2009 08:04:00 -0700

Here’s why sans serif fonts tend to suck for body copy: The name written above looks like “Chris Aheam.” Which is what I originally called him on Gawker. Turns out it’s Chris Ahearn, A-h-e-a-r-n. Sorry, Chris. Maybe have your Web designers specify a different byline font.

Japan trip pictures (Dec. 2003)

Sat, 27 Jun 2009 19:33:00 -0700

We’ve been dying to return to Japan; looking through old pictures I realized these weren’t on Flickr yet, so here, EAGER READER: pictures of my trip to Japan with Anne nearly six years ago.

Noteworthy things about Japan I remembered from these pictures:

In Kyoto, consider indulging the local passion for “WHITE LOVER.”
Better cheese in the subway convenience stores than you will find in the best U.S. specialty shops, due both to our national paranoia (no luscious young “au lait cru” cheese for us — unpasteurized fromage cannot be imported to the U.S. fresh) and Japan’s general awesomeness when it comes to food quality (great food — French, Japanese, Korean and otherwise — all over the place, maybe due to density). (More cheese pics here, here, here)
A long wine tradition! Here’s an article Anne wrote at the time for Joi Ito’s Chanpon. A winery outside Tokyo was kind enough to tour us and provide an executive we could quiz after. They also had a museum; here’s a shot of some old Japanese bottles, some prized French wines they were saving and, of course, the shop.
I miss Anne’s aunt and uncle and cousins — and aunt’s cooking — terribly.
Really consider Miyajima if you go to Japan; it was a major highlight of our trip. Features several awesome monkey signs!
Also underrated: Hiroshima.
Even more underrated: Squiriting mayonaisse on Japanese food like this in a bar. (Okonomiyaki)
If you show up at the Japanese Foreign Press Club without a connection, they will politely find a kindly journalist (perhaps Bangladeshi) to vouch for you. You just have to convince him you’re legit!

I heard rumors of a Gawker Media San Francisco office, so...

Sat, 27 Jun 2009 17:32:04 -0700

I heard rumors of a Gawker Media San Francisco office, so I’ve started looking for appropriate signage.

Would Carla Bruni’s music be even more appealing if I knew...

Mon, 08 Jun 2009 22:26:49 -0700

Would Carla Bruni’s music be even more appealing if I knew what she was saying? I doubt it.

"Fearing competition from radio, newspaper editors in April 1933 had coerced the Associated Press..."

Sat, 09 May 2009 11:25:00 -0700

“Fearing competition from radio, newspaper editors in April 1933 had coerced the Associated Press into witholding its news service from the networks. “If radio companies want news,” declaimed Hearst, “let them get their own news.”“”

- Neal Gabler in Winchell: gossip, power and the culture of celebrity, illustrating how AP has been waging a war against the future for more than 75 years now.

My last night shift is over.

Fri, 08 May 2009 05:55:15 -0700

I’ll miss the drunken email tips, clipping the late shows, election nights, White House news conferences, writing three-hour posts, being a generalist, having no immediate editor, gossip roundups, IM chats with Blakeley and once and present Valleywags and waking up to a day’s worth of feedback in my inbox. Among other things. But maybe what I’ll miss the most is the taste of my first post-shift drink at 4 or 5 in the morning. Especially on Thursdays.

OK you know what, Netflix? You think you got me figured out, but...

Fri, 03 Apr 2009 07:36:07 -0700

OK you know what, Netflix? You think you got me figured out, but don’t ASSUME you do, or whatever. I could be the type of person who HATES Dark Foreign Movies Featuring a Strong Female lead and whatnot. (That said if I could specify specific actresses that would be great kthxbai)

A newspaperman who never reported anything and was twice...

Sun, 22 Mar 2009 02:07:00 -0700

A newspaperman who never reported anything and was twice suspended for breaching standards says bloggers can’t do reporting and have no standards.

I have truly seen it all and don’t need to read another newspapers vs bloggers story again, ever. For that I thank you, Mark Morford.

God, the Brits really do hate gingers. Even your garden-variety...

Tue, 03 Mar 2009 19:35:00 -0800

God, the Brits really do hate gingers. Even your garden-variety prejudiced person isn’t above a little sexual fetishization.

Extended personal Tumblr forecast: More emo posts with a high...

Sat, 28 Feb 2009 13:42:14 -0800

Extended personal Tumblr forecast: More emo posts with a high probability of bitching about the weather.

bulicks: Mia Doi Todd, My Room Is White (Flying Lotus...

Sat, 28 Feb 2009 13:31:00 -0800

bulicks:

Mia Doi Todd, My Room Is White (Flying Lotus remix)

@Ryan Tate, the next time you’re walking down a New York street

Sure, this is a nice track, but there’s also a timeless moral to the story: You catch more Anderson Cooopers with electronic nightclub music than with straight folk.

In September I came to New York for a week, for work. I slept...

Wed, 25 Feb 2009 17:00:00 -0800

In September I came to New York for a week, for work. I slept three hours each night and for some reason always listened to this as I drifted off.

After I woke around 4 am, quietly collecting myself from the floor of a three-bedroom apartment, I would walk to Columbus Circle subway station, down to the sweltering platform. Night shift janitors were heading home. The first day, I was relieved to discover the cars were in fact air conditioned.

From the Broadway-Lafayette station I would walk toward Spring Street, buying every day a large hot coffee from the same cart operator, one of the few operating at 5 in the morning. I would pass Equinox gym as I continued toward Elizabeth St., usually walking by one or two anxious young women coming, I imagined, to or from their workouts. Every morning I assumed, in my delirium and vestigial Gotham naivete, I would somehow pass Anderson Cooper, and nod. This of course never happened.

What did happen is that I had to turn on the office air conditioner each morning because I was sweating profusely by the time I reached the top of the stairs; that I spilled wine on myself at Public and failed to make conversation in topics central to my college major; and that I drank two glasses of Pinot Noir at Peter’s on the Upper West Side, sitting alone at a table by the window and hoping for a breeze that never came.

I’m not sure why tallying receipts for my taxes brings back these memories of the trip and not, say, meeting Malcolm Gladwell, or having a blast at Media Meshing. Maybe seeing that I formed a (heretofore) pointless S-Corp also made me realize I am both less independent and more alone than I would have guessed one year ago. Looked at the right way, each evening in Berkeley is a variation on that long tired walk to Nolita.

"So from now on, [Michael Phelps] spends all his free time hanging around in strip joins. Talk about..."

Sat, 21 Feb 2009 17:05:35 -0800

“So from now on, [Michael Phelps] spends all his free time hanging around in strip joins. Talk about working on your breast stroke (rimshot)! (My five year old son is writing these jokes.)”

- David Letterman. (File as “Easy one-liners I didn’t think of, part 1781.”)

Great, now I won’t be able to stop thinking about this...

Fri, 20 Feb 2009 04:57:00 -0800

Great, now I won’t be able to stop thinking about this looming, vital question all weekend. THANKS A LOT STAR MAGAZINE.

I expect this kind of race-baiting from those guilt-ridden...

Fri, 20 Feb 2009 03:48:00 -0800

I expect this kind of race-baiting from those guilt-ridden apologists at the Times. But not you, Wall Street Journal. NOT YOU.

Tumblr: It's like Blogger, but with better templates, and run by a censorious children's clique.

Tue, 17 Feb 2009 16:13:13 -0800

Tumblr: It's like Blogger, but with better templates, and run by a censorious children's clique.