Married for thirteen years, widowered for twelve

Thirteen years ago today I got married:

Martin signs the wedding certificate

Slightly less than twelve years ago, I became a widower.

For reasons I don’t want to make public quite yet, it hard me a bit harder than normal this time. The grieving process is an extended farewell. Part of that farewell is letting go of the physical reminders of your loved one. The food you bought because she liked it, the clothes, perfumes and other things she left behind you cannot use and cannot keep. The little touches here and there in your shared home that were particularly hers. Plans are afoot that will necessarily bring about a loss of most of these reminders as I’m starting a new chapter in my own life. A very positive change, but none the less on a day like this, one that hurts a bit.

This is why I need to move

My Librarything collection currently has 8201 books listed. It’s not complete. it’s likely never to be completed as I buy books faster than I enter them. almost a quarter of them are ebooks. Those are not the problem. The problem are the six thousand physical books. Not to brag, but this is what you get for spending four decades reading and buying books: a house filled to bursting with them.

The four bookcases in my bedroom, loaded with manga, bande dessinee and comics

Which means my bedroom now has four of Ikea’s finest Billy bookcases in them. This is where I keep my physical graphic novels, European comics and manga. You may notice that the left most bookcase lacks an extension. For some reason Ikea slightly increased the height which made it just too high for my ceilings to fit a second extension. Really frustrating. Most of the comics here are European, with a lot of American graphic novels and trade paperback or hardcover collections as well. Most of my manga is digital: both cheaper and easier to store. Manga is also much more easier to read on tablet than European or American comics. Partially because they’re mostly in black & white, partially because the panels are bigger. It can be an exercise in frustration to read e.g. some eighties Marvel collection and having to zoom in to read the tiny tiny word balloons.

Part of the bookcases in my living room, fiction and non-fiction

Looking from my kitchen into the living room, only part of the bookcases can be seen. They cover fully three quarters of my wall space. Starting from left next to the kitchen opening, all the way around the room to the back. Only walls not covered is the back wall which looks out at the garden and the bit of wall where my computer desk is. They’re mostly full now, as you may have noticed. You may have also noticed the overflow on the dinner table. The beauty of living alone is that you can use it to store your current reads and nobody will object…. To conserve space my books are sorted by size before genre. Paperbacks by paperbacks, hard covers on top, trades in the bookcases not visible here. Most of my fiction is in paperback, the most convenient format. Non-fiction is a different matter. As for what I read, science fiction/fantasy, crime novels and history are my most read genres. But if you want to really know, read booklog.

Part of the bookcases in my living room, fiction and non-fiction

All of which is not even counting the floppies I also have. The eleven long boxes here are just the biggest part. Several more long boxes and crates are stashed elsewhere in my house, wherever there’s room. I spent roughly a decade and a half, 1987 to 2001 or so buying comics this way and it all adds up. The frustrating thing is that they’re barely accessible anymore because I just don’t have the room to open them.

Which is one of the reasons I’m looking seriously at moving out and back to my home town, where the houses are somewhat cheaper than over here. The other reason to be closer to my family and parents as they’re not getting any younger either. It would be great to find something where I could dedicate an entire room to my comics and not have to stash them in milk crates.

Not sure what to think about this

The Washington Post looking into the data sets Google uses to train its chatbots and some surprising results popped up:

A screenshot from the article showing cloggie.org is present in the data set with 230 tokes and rank 11,780,115

As The Post put it:

To look inside this black box, we analyzed Google’s C4 data set, a massive snapshot of the contents of 15 million websites that have been used to instruct some high-profile English-language AIs, called large language models, including Google’s T5 and Facebook’s LLaMA. (OpenAI does not disclose what datasets it uses to train the models backing its popular chatbot, ChatGPT)
The Post worked with researchers at the Allen Institute for AI on this investigation and categorized the websites using data from Similarweb, a web analytics company. About a third of the websites could not be categorized, mostly because they no longer appear on the internet. Those are not shown.
We then ranked the remaining 10 million websites based on how many “tokens” appeared from each in the data set. Tokens are small bits of text used to process disorganized information — typically a word or phrase.

Because the article kindly included a search bar I found out my website is also included in the data set, with some 230 tokens. It would be interesting to see what exactly was included in those 230 tokens from the more than two decades of rambling contained in this site. Sadly, that’s not provided here. Nevertheless, an interesting look in the data used in training socalled AI programmes and its limitations.

This blog is old enough to drink in America

Its very first post was a rather pedestrian piece on a group of Dutch right wing population reduction enthusiasts, starting a long tradition of earnest mediocrity. At that point I had already run my booklog for more than a year but that stage it had been very much just a web page rather than an actual blog. Blogs themselves had slowly evolved from out of the primordial web ooze from the late nineties and thanks to certain things happening in September of the previous year, had suddenly become the Next Big Internet Thing. Me, I still thought of Usenet as the most important part of the internet, the space where I’d made my friends and life long connections.

It’s hard to remember in this post-blogging, everybody easily shove their thoughts in your face, social media world how weird and exciting blogging was. A bit scary too. I knew how to create web pages, had had Cloggie.org since 1999, a descendant of older, long gone student web sites, but those were all just basic HTML and CSS rigs, not using scary things like PHP or Javascript to make it all fancy. WordPress, which I’m currently using, didn’t exist yet. Blogger did but only allowed you to publish on their blogger.com site, if I remember correctly. There didn’t seem to exist any sort of lightweight, standalone blogging suite that I could plug into Cloggie.org easily.

Until Charlie Stross introduced me to Blosxom, when he launched his blog. That was ideal. Free, simple, easy to understand even for a dim bulb like me. The only thing you needed to do was write a post as a text file, HTMl and all, then drop it on your website using FTP. It was simple enough to finally get me started blogging, something I’d been itching to do ever since I’d started reading blogs myself. It lasted me a year or so, then I switched to phposxom, a similar concept but somewhat of an improvement, with slightly improved features. Ultimately that too would be too limited and I finally switched over to WordPress somewhere in 2008.

This blog is so old it’s older than Eschaton: Atrios only got started in April. It’s old enough to have covered the 50th, 60th and 70th anniversary of the Watersnoodramp. Old enough to have survived multiple blogging software updates and the demise of several, once critical blogging components. Remember Haloscan comments? Technorati rankings? Google Reader? it was a year old when the War on Iraq started and indeed the buildup to that war was a major reason I started it in the first place. It has swung from being a general interest to an intensely political blog and back again several times. It’s old enough to remember when Matt Yglesias was just a hack blogger and watch in horror while people like him used blogs as a step on the way to become even hackier pundits, still wrong on everything but on a much larger scale while those who got The War on Iraq right languished.

This is not a blog that is read much, not even when it had its popular phase. Most of the links in it don’t work anymore and sometimes even I don’t know anymore what I was talking about because it. There never were that many commenters, nor a real community like some of the larger blogs could establish. Many of the comments that were made where lost when Haloscan went under, again a chunk of its history and context lost. There is no real reason for it to exist, no grift attached, nothing to promote, no real audience it is chasing.

Calvin under a black starry sky: I'm significant. Said the dust speck.

If there is a reason for this blog to exist, it is to simply say: “I exist. This is what I find important. This happened. I matter.

Boekenbeurs 1982 — 2023

So many of the books on my bookshelves came from this place:

Front view of a bookstore with books stalled out in front of the shop window sheltered by a canopy above them

I used to have a set routine growing up in Middelburg in the eighties. Every other Saturday morning or so I would go to the local library, sometimes together with my mother, then on the way back home stop at this place, De Boekenbeurs, which was located just across the bridge from the library. There I would spent an hour or so carefully looking over its selections of secondhand science fiction and comics, deciding on what to buy now and what might still be available next time before parting with my hard earned pocket money. It was about the only bookstore in town that did carry science fiction and certainly the only one that a broke teenager like me could afford. After I moved to Amsterdam I’d still continue to visit every time I was back in my hometown because nine times out of ten I would find something interesting there. I did just that when I was visiting my parents for Christmas last December, but I won’t be able to anymore next time I visit, as today is its last opening.

It’s a familiar story for any independent bookstore I’d guess. De Boekenbeurs opened in 1982, founded by an ex-civil servant who wanted to strike out for himself. As many local bookstores, it always specialised in local history and such, most of which was of little interest to me, but it also kept more generic stock to fill its shelves. There was always a good chance of finding some unexpected gem among the airport thrillers and local celeb biographies. And then of course the internet happened, people found it easier to get their books online and the sort of serendipitous browsing that a local shop like that is ideal for fell out of fashion. The store reduced its opening hours, started selling online as well, but it was clear that, especially in the last few years, it had become a struggle for the owner, no longer that much fun. Which is why he decided to shut up shop, not having been able to find a buyer for it.

Nevertheless it managed to stay in business for forty years and a bit and I have been coming there almost as long. It was a life line for a nerd like me at a time when opportunities to read science fiction were limted to either buying secondhand or getting whatever the library deemed worthy enough to get. You need bookstores like this, somewhere where you can go in casually and be surprised at what you find on its shelves. Yes, it is easy enough to get what you want from the internet, but it’s the books you didn’t realise you wanted but were glad to find that you can only encounter in a store like this.

R.I.P. De Boekenbeurs. Thanks for your service and I’ll miss you.