Charlie recently read an academic paper -- A Neural Algorithm of Artistic Style, by Gatys, Ecker, and Bethge -- about the application of deep neural networks using computer vision and pattern recognition to generate artistic images from photographs.
Utilizing the algorithm described in that paper, he applied the style of a Van Gogh self-portrait to a photo of me sitting on the sofa this past July.
I think I look amazing.
A dog-owner with a home security camera provided this top-voted answer to the Quora question, "What does a dog do every day [when it's at home alone]?" The gist of her answer was that her dog mostly sleeps, walks around, and waits for her to come home.
I don't want to cast any aspersions on her dog, but my own experience is far different. I am incredibly active both physically and mentally during the moments that I am at home alone.
For one thing, I see that time as a critical opportunity for me to go back to the well, figuratively-speaking, and recharge my creative processes. I fit in some slow breathing and meditation. I eat the breakfast I was too emotionally wrought up to focus on while everyone was at home. I reorganize my rawhides.
Additionally, I am acutely aware that I have been left in charge, a position of responsibility. From my monitoring station on the sofa, I observe the neighborhood closely, integrating my observations into a constantly-updated internal representation of threats and opportunities. We're talking substantive and sustained work here. I'm often exhausted by the time my owner gets home.
Several Quora respondents' answers included the observation that their dogs appear to be able to measure the passage of time, for example coming to stand near the door shortly before the owner would routinely be returning home. In this area, their experience mirrors my own. I too find myself very tuned in to the passage of time. I pick up my cues and clues from changes in the ambient light, as well as from repetitive patterns of neighborhood activity, such as children coming home from school.
If you're worried that all this cogitating is overtaxing me, please don't be. Remember, what doesn't kill me is making me stronger. Given that I will soon be entering my ninth year, I think it's a good thing that I devote so much bandwidth to staying mentally acute. It's my canine version of Lumosity.
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Yes, it's true: I, Lambie, joined the Instagram generation a couple of months ago, and am loving it.
It took me a couple of weeks to learn Instagram mores -- for example, that less is more when posting, or that hash-tagging oneself is pointless -- but now I feel like an Instagram denizen. I am just hoping that the rumors of Instagram corporate stupidity are unfounded, as I would hate to have to jump ship if it turned out that Instagram is nationalizing users' photos.
Here I am in the dumps, trying to think of new posts. How do those Twitterers manage it?
I am going to rise to the pressure. I can't let my followers down.
Stay tuned for more episodes of the Lambie show, coming soon.
When I saw that a webisode of Brandt Point was filming at Nancy's house, I wondered if this could be my opportunity to break into the biz. I stood nearby for a while, waiting to be noticed.
Nothing happened, but that's OK. I've heard perseverance is key to making it in the industry.
If I have to wait tables for awhile, so be it.
The guys had gathered for a game of Starcraft.
My role? Cord maintenance.
I found it to be hypnotically relaxing.
Things are looking grim for Thomas' computer. He cracked the screen a few days ago, and ordered a new one from eBay.
Today Charlie got out his tools to install the replacement screen and carefully, taking hours, took everything apart, only to learn that that we'd been sent the wrong screen, which won't work with Thomas' computer. Then, while he was putting the computer back together, he dropped a screw into the computer's headphone jack. He and Thomas tried everything, but they couldn't get it out.
While Charlie worked on a communication to the eBay seller, Thomas took a quick nap on the sofa.
Perceiving that they were both dejected, I tried to lend support.
I wished I could do more. Why couldn't I be a helpful techie when my brothers needed me most?
It's terrible to feel impotent to stop the suffering of those you love.
We were at the bluffs with my owner's backup camera, which she has yet to master.
We started out in black and white, for reasons unknown.
Next thing I knew we were in color mode.
And then, inexplicably, we had moved into a mode where everything was black and white, except for blue, which popped out at you.
Once I got over my shock, I kind of liked this new world.
It's dizzying yet subtle. I think I could get used to it.
