This is the best app I’ve found so far for visualizing where all my disk space has gone:
I have a theory that inability to manage one’s finances and one’s hard disk space have the same psychological factors at their root.
P.S. It’s free, but you can pay $20 to get it to stop nagging you.
Two friends have just released iPhone apps in time for Christmas:
- Jenga, by Natural Motion. This is the official Jenga iPhone app – there’s a fiendishly realistic physics model of the world behind the scenes, and it’s a thing of beauty.
- Storyville by Fatty Apps – I love the idea of receiving a short story each week, beamed straight to my outboard brain.
P.S. I’d be happy to put you in touch with Torsten or Atul if you have any direct feedback you’d like to give them.
Have you ever had a conversation with smart friends that got hung up on some disputed point of fact, or tip of the tongue memory failure? Don’t you just wish someone would step in with the answer to unclog the free flow of ideas and happy banter? Disputes about facts and tip-of-the-tongue feelings *should* be a relic of the 20th century. So there are two things that are remarkable here:
- Through smartphones and search engines, we can marshal thousands of machines to produce the answer in the blink of your mind’s eye.
- But we have to perform that instantaneous incantation with pudgy fingers and a 0.3G internet connection. I challenge anyone to find the name of an actor in under 2 minutes with an iPhone with crappy reception. While those 120 seconds creep past, you’re coldly ignoring your friends, and the conversation is gasping on the table like a naked baby on a spacewalk.
Here’s one technological solution to this social problem:
- At the beginning of the conversation, we all put our iPhones on the table, and fire up the Inforager app.
- Inforager is listening to us, uploading the audio of our conversation to voice-recognizing clouds.
- It runs dozens of google searches continually in the background, displaying result-snippet-bubbles that float past, driven by the whorls and eddies of our conversation. While we’re talking about the beardy guy with the Greek name in The Hangover, a bubble for ‘Zach Galifianakis – IMDb’ looms large, only to be nudged offscreen as we move to debating whether the ‘candied sunchokes’ on the restaurant menu are likely to taste more like sunflowers or artichokes, while the other half of the table engages in a dialog on the nature of catnip.
In other words, the answers to questions we have are being provided in real time in response to our conversation. This frees us up to talk about what matters.
- If multiple people at the same table were calling Inforager, it would use the multiple sound sources to do a better job of distinguishing voices and improving audio quality.
- Is it possible to use the phone (rather than the 3G connection) to upload the audio data? That would drain the battery much less.
- I made up the name Inforager.
When we think of wikis, we think of text, like the Wikipedia. But this notion of content that anyone can view and anyone can edit has barely unfurled its wings. What if we were to apply it to space?
For instance, imagine growing a World of Warcraft town as a community. Each person could design and improve upon the buildings, fill the walls with graffiti, neighborhoods would define themselves… the ease and pace of iteration might even generate new ideas about town planning.
Alternatively, let’s build on Ed Cooke’s fantastic plan for school architecture in the future [cached]:
Children, well known to be compulsive absorbers of information, crucially learn what they are interested in. Like all animals, they are interested in spaces.
I’d like to see schools’ spatial layout reflect the history of Western culture, and thereby implicitly teach it. A snake-like line of school buildings could begin at one end in Ancient times and run on, in temporally organized fashion, up to the computer science blocks of the present day. Key themes and figures from each epoch could provide the names for classrooms, which could also reflect some of the architecture, customs and furniture of the day.
Because in five years of school, everyone learns every detail of the spatial organisation of the buildings, and because memories always attach to the spaces in which they were first formed, merely attending such a school would give one a wonderfully detailed sense of the history and structure of Western civilisation. And it wouldn’t need to be prescriptive, for one could take advantage of the second source of childrens’ interest – things they have a role in – to redouble the effect. Each year-group could, over the course of five years, reconsider, re-design and re-build one of the twelve epochs/buildings.
Convincing someone to build a school organized on mnemonic principles is going to be tricky. But in the meantime, perhaps schools’ online presence might take the form of a spatial wiki. Students could make changes ranging from decor to naming to overall organization, shaping their online school to their memories and vice versa. We love to deeply inhabit our environment by shaping it – what could be better than exercising our rich faculty for spatial navigation imaginatively?
Most wikis require you to perform one of two contortions to create a link:
- Use CamelCase. Much like a camel, this is robust, but tiring to finger.
- Wrap things in [“symbols that are hard to type”].
In both cases, you need to know in advance that you plan to create a link, and be enough of a disciplined philistine to overcome the effort and overlook the ugliness.
Auto-links are the solution  – here’s how they work. Say you create a page called ‘Camel case’. Now, type Camel case anywhere else, and that ‘Camel case’ text will be turned into an auto-link as you go. In other words, the wiki notices that you’ve typed the name of an existing page in the midst of your text, and automatically creates a link for you. If you go back and edit the text, the link goes away. 
Links between pages become evident to readers without any extra effort on the part of the writer. If I type ‘MySQL’ and an auto-link appears, it’s easy to see that a relevant page about it already exists.
Having used such a system for a long time, I have come to appreciate the tiny flash of satisfaction at seeing a link appear with no extra effort, confirming that the page does indeed exist , and making navigation while editing a breeze. Pages that I wrote years ago are now festooned with links to pages that were created long afterwards. Indeed, the most satisfying feeling of all is when an auto-link pops up to a page I’d forgotten I wrote. Lazy serendipity!
 To do this the way God intended requires running a regex containing all the pagetitles in your wiki over what you type on every keystroke – this is very nearly instantaneous for even 10k documents.
 For extra points, allow pages to have multiple aliases, so that (for instance) ‘database’, ‘databases’ and ‘MySQL’ all point to the same page.
[I wrote this in 2003 – there are still pieces of this vision that haven’t been realized]
why isn’t there a little wireless didgeridoo that just sits next to a cd player (stereo audio input), with a wireless network card, and maybe an ip address or a network id or something that you can initially configure easily/remotely by plugging in a computer via a usb or something, that just sits there and plays whatever your laptop running winamp tells it to by wireless???
apparently these exist already :(
but they’re pretty crap at the moment – they’re proprietary, and are only just getting up to speed with 802.11b etc.
this doesn’t exist though:
you could set a password to it, and then anyone with a laptop nearby who knew its id and had the password, could wrest control of it, e.g. at a party. better still, you could have a sort of queuing system/software for allowing different users to place requests, and people could vote whether they like what’s playing and that person’s reputation would go up – like slashdot karma – it would be a sort of communal interactive jukebox