Stacy Horn

My copy of the new novel Bounded Rationality, by Pamela McCorduck has arrived!

I wasn’t familiar with the term. From Wikipedia, about the concept of bounded rationality: “Bounded rationality is the idea that in decision-making, rationality of individuals is limited by the information they have, the cognitive limitations of their minds, and the finite amount of time they have to make a decision.”

The book features the Santa Fe Institute, which I’m very curious about now. Why don’t I know more about them?

Speaking of the “information they have”, I just read an essay titled, No, You’re Not Entitled to Your Opinion, where he says, among other things, that the attitude that you are entitled to your opinion, regardless of the facts or your ability to defend your opinion, “feeds, I suggest, into the false equivalence between experts and non-experts that is an increasingly pernicious feature of our public discourse.” I couldn’t freaking agree more.

Here is an interview with McCorduck about her new novel. Oh wait, this is the second in a trilogy. I need to go back and read the first one first.

A week or so ago I passed by this outdoor yoga class in the Meat Market. There always seems to be something going on in this spot.

Maybe, I should say. I’m attending a six hour class today and then I have to take and pass a test in order to get the job. These tests can be deceptively tricky, I’ve discovered. The Census had a practice test available online which you could try out before coming in to take the test. I tried it and flunked it. I went back over the questions and found all evil traps they set, so when I took the test in-person I got 100%. The Board of Elections doesn’t have one online.

But it should be fun to work at a polling center, I think. The last general election would have been the best. In NYC we had the longest lines I’d ever seen in my entire voting life. Here’s the video I made of the line in my neighborhood.

I want a pumpkin. No, I want a wall full of pumpkins. And pumpkin pie every day.

Well, that was horrible. What is the point of debates? For me they are agonizing, even when my guy is doing well. I hate them. I hate them like I hate watching pundits go at each other on news shows, or what passes for news shows these days. I would never make a decision based on them, and can’t imagine many people do. I liked when Obama said, “Governor Romney, when it comes to his own party during the course of this campaign, has not displayed that willingness to say no to some of the more extreme parts of his party.”

But for the most part, I didn’t listen. I couldn’t listen. I watched the reactions on Echo and Twitter and Talking Points Memo. I had to be once removed from it all in order to withstand the anxiety.

Can’t we just do away with debates?? If tradition is the only reason we have for doing them then we have no reason at all. Along those lines, can’t we do away with the process of collecting blurbs about your book for the back cover? Does anyone make a decision about buying books based on the blurbs on the back cover?

Just in case anyone is not aware, this is where those blurbs come from: the author, editor, and agent go around and beg friends, they beg friends of friends, and call in favors, they also write complete strangers, basically saying whatever they can to get people to write something nice about the book. It doesn’t mean the nice things people write are lies, the point is, it’s no fun to ask busy people to drop what they’re doing to read your book and write about it. Everyone I know always has a stack of books they want to read, a stack that they need to read, and I know what it’s like to have to read a book when have your own pressing reasons to get to a ton of other books first.

In new cat news, Bleeck continues to take over. Finney still doesn’t like him, but I adore him. He has tremendous personality and intelligence. Within seconds he filled up this entire apartment with who he is and his Bleeck-ish ways, I’ll bet he could fill up the planet.

But I have to make this right with Finney somehow, and I’m not sure what to do. Maybe once a day put Bleeck in the bedroom for a half an hour and spend that time loving on Finney, giving him catnips and treats?

My tribute movie to Buddy is pretty much done except for picking a soundtrack, except I might skip the soundtrack altogether. I can’t find the song that sums up how I feel, ie: “You were the greatest thing in the world and now you’re dead.”

I was hunting around for a specific movie clip of Buddy and instead found lots of pictures that I’d rejected and thrown away. I pulled out two. Not because they’re good, but because it hit me, this is it. No more new pictures of Buddy ever again. All the pictures I have now are all the pictures I will ever have.

This first one was taken at the end of this year’s spring cleaning. I was going for a panoramic shot of my sparkly and ridiculously clean apartment.

The one below was taken on June 26th, two months before Buddy died. I was still feeling hopeful then. Now it feels sad to see him look outside, with longing, toward a world that would soon go on without him. He always wanted to go out there (to kill birds!) and of course I never let him. And now that’s all over. Oh God.

This shot kinda kills me. I think it’s because I can’t do anything nice for him anymore. I can’t let him out there, not that I ever would. I can’t give him toys, or treats or food, or take him to vet to help him feel better. I can’t pull out the laser pointer which made him go insane he was so anxious to chase that little red light.

I so loved doing whatever made him happy. If you have a pet you know exactly what I’m talking about. For dog owners it must be reaching for the leash and your dog going nuts. It’s such a pleasure for the both of you, when you can give them exactly what they want. Poor little Buddy.

And you can hear it here. (Recorded by NASA, more info here.)

The view at my hair salon. There’s a view of One World Trade on the other side, but I’ve already posted too many pictures of 1WTC already, so I’m posting this one instead. This is looking southwest, and that’s the Hudson.