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Saturday, April 16, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Technical Misunderstandings
So I got a Google Voice account about a year ago. One of its features is that when someone leaves you a voice mail, it will automatically try to transcribe it for you. But Google Voice doesn't know that my parents are speaking Cantonese. So its transcriptions of their messages turn out to be quite entertaining:
Interestingly, she actually said the English word "plan" in that message, but in the form of "planning" not "planned". She also ended her message with the English "bye bye", which Google was able to transcribe correctly. I don't know about this whole deadly man business, though. What are you trying to tell me, Mom?
Yesterday, I received a voice mail from a computer automated system from Kaiser Permanente. Google Voice took the call and transcribed it. The idea of Google (a computer) transcribing what Kaiser (a computer voice) was saying made my head go in loop de loop circles, but also seemed very poignant. The machine miscommunicating with the machine. Here is what Google transcribed:
Why did Google keep thinking Kaiser was saying 'Yeah'?
Here is the audio:Mom (cell): When our mom. He did not send a deadly man planned to do that. They that happy that they might be Hall I. I don't know. Bye bye.
Interestingly, she actually said the English word "plan" in that message, but in the form of "planning" not "planned". She also ended her message with the English "bye bye", which Google was able to transcribe correctly. I don't know about this whole deadly man business, though. What are you trying to tell me, Mom?
I started not answering the phone on purpose when my mom called, just to see the transcriptions of her messages and the weird poetry I could get from them.Mom (cell): Way it out. I'll email and I like that. They they Lisa. If you have about the he had bought the house. I need to have dot, com The. Online. I don't know the phone.
Mom (cell): Hey, if you got busy. My whole life. I cut them. I had a AT from, so on. So in case on and so being from anything on Sunday. So on a thing on the bye bye.
Mom (cell): Maria, pack and I've been on my last. I owe you guys. Okay so my ass a whole. It's on 7 May, lem. I'm 050. I think I'm gonna have to get the not off right there on time on Monday at home today. I'm with us on the hope upon the tower on the mould and everything like that feed off, i'm just towel, so now I'm doing fine looked out it without it up so my god bless. Bye bye.
That last one was weird, because it interpreted something which sounded nothing like "Hey Jimmy, Lo" as "Hey Jimmy, Lo" and why the hell would it think that she said that? Jimmy Lo is my name. So does Google Voice just think that my mom would say my name at this point? Probably Google guesses things based on what it knows about me so things sounding even remotely like my name would probably be guessed as my name. But yeah, weird. Here is the audio of that message:Mom (cell): May not on the the garbage in my life. The by, that if I don't know. I got bye.
Mom (cell): Went on on it, but I thought the most central data and just well it off, but I'm not goodbye.
Dad (cell): Right. Jimmy Jimmy about not ready. Lila if you got a phone call and give me a joke and bye bye.
Mom (cell): Hello hello hello. All of that on mon. Hey Dad, It's me back bye bye bye hey there. Bye bye bye hi.
Mom (cell): Hey my mom and I'm A, I don't tell you not be able to 1,000 I intended. I expected to see if I don't know if you don't mind it is not the Done. Hi. The. I think that the other thing is that they they said they liked homa la. Simon lack of my house I. I hope that you got it. I have but it's about 510. I'm on my cat harness is 11 films talk to them so important. How fine. A Hi Donna, hey Chinese. Anyway, talk to you at the intended. Hello. I'm not. Bye bye.
Mom (cell): The maximum 10 the Martha. Or might be a M. One last question and some.
Mom (cell): Yes, and on it and I hope that I'm not yet they got it in my on, Hey Jimmy, Lo. Bye.
One thing you should probably know is that when it says "Jimmy" at the beginning of these transcripts, that actually is my parents calling me that. They call me by my English name Jimmy sometimes, and sometimes by my Chinese name "Nam Nam". Although in one of those messages up there it transcribed it as "Gimme". Also, my dad doesn't leave as many messages as my mom, and generally when he does, he doesn't say as much. Also, interesting that Google thinks my Dad said "Google" when he said no such thing.Mom (cell): Rachel not they come out Sunday and I'm gonna with anyone. They are be 45. Okay, see you about the Monty Hall feedback on the can do. A message that part of it might be in my mouth. I will talk to you or that was the one here are you standing there. I don't know. Bye bye.
Dad (cell): Gimme a. So go ahead. I'm gonna. Thank you. Hi.
Dad (cell): Jimmy call back. Looks good about other.
Mom (cell): Hello. Indiana. You don't have it in my our deadline little now. Bye bye.
Dad (cell): Jimmy, bye bye. Something tells me that and envelope. We're going to have a lot, so you guys are going to send this is the last.
Dad (cell): David about where if you're not gonna behind and stop by pick up the most and that.
Mom (cell): Went along with the S E dot baby are doing on our. I know it by E. I'm on my photo. Yeah savings say bye Walton face. I don't think I found.
Dad (cell): Gary about list from Google, and maybe we can. I love. Pre-approved.
Mom (cell): My name is that may be right. So iPods all but in Idaho and good luck and I. You'll you'll be available date I thought. I hope goes all the with the light up pen back, almost, William comes up and I don't know the new vehicle Golden Gate Dr. So. I'm sorry if I don't know. Hi will give up on it and coming in front of a going fine, I don't know and I thought I'd see if I think. Yeah. Bye bye.Unfortunately, at this point Google must have changed their algorithm. Now it won't transcribe anything that it recognizes is in another language. Instead, it just says "Unable to transcribe this message." How lame!
Dad (cell): Okay, I got a lot. Bye bye Seattle purebred haven't bye.
Mom (cell): Bye and I'm dating my last night and hung up. Goodbye.
Mom (cell): Hello help wanted a lot. Bye. Hello testing process. Hello. All, Hello okay. Okay, bye bye.
Mom (cell): Hey. Hello, Well hello.
Mom (cell): The dear. I might be back or what but think about it bye bye.
Mom (cell): Bye, hey i hall. Hey the, well, the telephone with voice up so case with the potluck. Does that sit down with such a fun in fact and where you left. So, is the third party. My not. Bye bye.
Mom (cell): But it on them. I just want to go. It is doing that on something or not it at and Brendan refund that the most. I did lose so I'm glad to drive you know it is man. Bye Daisy's night Sunday that if I miss him on my side. Hey, Chucky, and I've put all I get a basement. At this the program. And I said, I guess I need to know if I I got the reply.
Mom (cell): Waiting on on the history I hit him. Hey, Linda gate and I wanted to see and tell him that bye bye.
Dad (cell): Thank you, that they are doing well and It's other. Do not call her. Hello.
Yesterday, I received a voice mail from a computer automated system from Kaiser Permanente. Google Voice took the call and transcribed it. The idea of Google (a computer) transcribing what Kaiser (a computer voice) was saying made my head go in loop de loop circles, but also seemed very poignant. The machine miscommunicating with the machine. Here is what Google transcribed:
And here is the audio:Kaiser: Hello Yeah, this is Kaiser Permanente, you calling for you. Yang. Hello we're calling to share some important information, to help make sure you're getting the most out of your new benefits. Yeah, he's call us back yo free. Yeah one. Yeah. 877. You re 57. Yeah 7626. Again, your number is 1. Yeah. 877. You re 57. Yeah 7626. Thank you for your time. And remember. Today is a good day to thrive. Bye bye.
Why did Google keep thinking Kaiser was saying 'Yeah'?
Labels:
computer,
computer generated poetry,
Google,
Google Voice,
poetry,
transcription
Saturday, March 5, 2011
The Moscow Dogs
"the silence will begin full of dogs" —Julio CortázarI've been reading articles on the web about this phenomenon in Moscow. Apparently there is a steady population of stray dogs in Moscow who have evolved several different survival strategies. Some primarily hunt mice and other animals, some scavenge for food in dumpsters. But there is one group of strays in particular who have learned how to navigate the city. Every day they commute into the city via the subway. They know when to get on and when to get off the trains, moving alongside humans, and once in the city they know how to cross the street by waiting for the pedestrian light to turn green. They've also developed a very intuitive sense of who to beg for food and who to leave alone. Here is a good story about it (but the first part about the crazy woman (though interesting) is kind of distracting to the main point which is how amazing these dogs are): Moscow's Stray Dogs: Exiled or Admired?
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Favorite Books Read in 2010
(full reviews of all these books can be found on my Goodreads page)
NONFICTION
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapu?ci?ski
in which Ryszard shows us Africa around the end of colonialism (not that it ever ends). He makes it a great read as it is satisfying in many ways: as history, as memoir, as anthropology, and as travel writing.
Kabloona by Gontran de Poncins
in which Gontran, being French, and the year being 1938, travels to arctic Canada to study the Eskimos and writes this piece of anthropological gem, both interesting as a study of his whitey attitudes and as a study of the local population and their strange habits. This one is special, people… a highly entertaining book.
Broadsides from Other Orders: A Book of Bugs by Sue Hubbell
in which each chapter is lovingly dedicated to explaining away one little critter, often as common as the daddy longlegs or the less heard-of camel cricket which I'm sure lives in your basement as we speak, although "explain away" is inaccurate as there's still so much we just don't know about them.
ALMOST NON-FICTION
Emigrants by W.G. Sebald
Austerlitz by W.G. Sebald
Vertigo by W.G. Sebald
in which Winfried Georg, being German, being inscrutable, lulls me into deep meditative conversation in which I stop caring what is being talked about. He often writes from a very serious place, of memory and architecture and place; his fiction is a combination of essay, memoir, old photos, and a lot of walking.
I Love Dick by Chris Kraus
in which Chris and husband decide to woo an acquaintance, Dick, by writing him love letters. This novel, which is obviously thinly veiled nonfiction, soon leads to a series of postmodern investigations taking the form of epistolary novel, feminist manifesto, art criticism, tell-all memoir, critical theory, personal essay, and diary. Bonus: makes for great reading in the men's locker room.
FICTION
Recollections of Things to Come by Elena Garro
in which magical realism was written before magical realism was even defined. And oh she does it so well, so much better than mr. marquez. This story, a political one but not in an annoying way, is told by the town itself. It is a devastating story, and one that made me read nonstop.
The Confusions of Young Törless by Robert Musil
in which you will think it is another coming of age boarding school novel, but this one searches so deeply it reminds me of Rilke's poetry, in its ability to wrestle with the most complex spiritual, philosophical, and psychological themes.
Go Tell It On the Mountain by James Baldwin
in which Fate smiled down on me and told me I had to read it as the copy I bought for $5 in Chicago was SIGNED by JB himself with the note: "for Jimmy or be that James". A novel about religion but also about many things, he goes down deep into the empathy of every character and the result is powerful.
The Summer Book by Tove Jansson
Sun City by Tove Jansson
in which Ms. Jansson writes about childhood and old age with equal skill and a light touch; this writing serves its function without an ounce of fat. The episodic tales unwind around flawed yet human and lovable characters.
The Time of the Doves by Mercè Rodoreda
in which she writes about devastation in a series of incremental impressions from a naive character, but one whose grief, though she doesn't understand it herself, also catches the reader by surprise.
Skylark by Dezs? Kosztolányi
in which a very ugly daughter and her parents have their routines disrupted when said ugly daughter leaves to visit a relative. A funny, sad book.
Pan by Knut Hamsun
in which Mr. Hamsun outdoes his own masterpiece Hunger, having written here an even better, more complex portrait of the mind's infatuation and raw feverish irrationality.
SHORT FICTION
Selected Prose of Heinrich von Kleist
in which so much is merciless and violent, and the people in these stories, poor things, are moved around by cosmic forces into monsters without their knowing it, swept up in the reconfiguration like a bit of bread in the bowels. The Marquise of O… in particular is one of the best stories I've ever read.
NONFICTION
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapu?ci?ski
in which Ryszard shows us Africa around the end of colonialism (not that it ever ends). He makes it a great read as it is satisfying in many ways: as history, as memoir, as anthropology, and as travel writing.
Kabloona by Gontran de Poncins
in which Gontran, being French, and the year being 1938, travels to arctic Canada to study the Eskimos and writes this piece of anthropological gem, both interesting as a study of his whitey attitudes and as a study of the local population and their strange habits. This one is special, people… a highly entertaining book.
Broadsides from Other Orders: A Book of Bugs by Sue Hubbell
in which each chapter is lovingly dedicated to explaining away one little critter, often as common as the daddy longlegs or the less heard-of camel cricket which I'm sure lives in your basement as we speak, although "explain away" is inaccurate as there's still so much we just don't know about them.
ALMOST NON-FICTION
Emigrants by W.G. Sebald
Austerlitz by W.G. Sebald
Vertigo by W.G. Sebald
in which Winfried Georg, being German, being inscrutable, lulls me into deep meditative conversation in which I stop caring what is being talked about. He often writes from a very serious place, of memory and architecture and place; his fiction is a combination of essay, memoir, old photos, and a lot of walking.
I Love Dick by Chris Kraus
in which Chris and husband decide to woo an acquaintance, Dick, by writing him love letters. This novel, which is obviously thinly veiled nonfiction, soon leads to a series of postmodern investigations taking the form of epistolary novel, feminist manifesto, art criticism, tell-all memoir, critical theory, personal essay, and diary. Bonus: makes for great reading in the men's locker room.
FICTION
Recollections of Things to Come by Elena Garro
in which magical realism was written before magical realism was even defined. And oh she does it so well, so much better than mr. marquez. This story, a political one but not in an annoying way, is told by the town itself. It is a devastating story, and one that made me read nonstop.
The Confusions of Young Törless by Robert Musil
in which you will think it is another coming of age boarding school novel, but this one searches so deeply it reminds me of Rilke's poetry, in its ability to wrestle with the most complex spiritual, philosophical, and psychological themes.
Go Tell It On the Mountain by James Baldwin
in which Fate smiled down on me and told me I had to read it as the copy I bought for $5 in Chicago was SIGNED by JB himself with the note: "for Jimmy or be that James". A novel about religion but also about many things, he goes down deep into the empathy of every character and the result is powerful.
The Summer Book by Tove Jansson
Sun City by Tove Jansson
in which Ms. Jansson writes about childhood and old age with equal skill and a light touch; this writing serves its function without an ounce of fat. The episodic tales unwind around flawed yet human and lovable characters.
The Time of the Doves by Mercè Rodoreda
in which she writes about devastation in a series of incremental impressions from a naive character, but one whose grief, though she doesn't understand it herself, also catches the reader by surprise.
Skylark by Dezs? Kosztolányi
in which a very ugly daughter and her parents have their routines disrupted when said ugly daughter leaves to visit a relative. A funny, sad book.
Pan by Knut Hamsun
in which Mr. Hamsun outdoes his own masterpiece Hunger, having written here an even better, more complex portrait of the mind's infatuation and raw feverish irrationality.
SHORT FICTION
Selected Prose of Heinrich von Kleist
in which so much is merciless and violent, and the people in these stories, poor things, are moved around by cosmic forces into monsters without their knowing it, swept up in the reconfiguration like a bit of bread in the bowels. The Marquise of O… in particular is one of the best stories I've ever read.
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