a statistically based information retrieval model

 Whatever is different now, it happened again this morning. Getting out of bed was much too easy, suspicious now, now that the problem of getting out of bed in the morning ha let up for a few days. It does not matter, went upstairs and took a shower. Changed the clothing that still smelt of the Italian restaurant.

Make breakfast, and take a short rest. Then go out to take a short walk in the chilly streets to the apothecary. There is a queue of people there, all waiting to collect their various pills. Some of them smell strongly of cigarette smoke, as if they have been in an enclosed chamber filled with such smoke. The smell is naueseating, it is good to be outside the place. There is a strange form of aggression in the room as well. It is not easy to understand what is causing this. Perhaps it is just the anger of people having to wait.

Walk back down the market square and turn into the home alley.

At home, check the news and wash the dishes. Do not forget to take the pills, inclusive the one from the fresh cardboard box.

Just in time for eleven in the morning go to the so called Neue Galerie in Landshut. This is an old mill building which has been converted into a gallery. There is a show opening there today. Go upstairs to the first floor, and realise that the second floor is completely filled with visitors to the "Vernissage". Since many of the exhibits are downstairs, have a look at the works whilst the knowledgable talk upstairs.

The work is bland. Large photographs with no real content, no presence. Largely soft clouds of colour squeezed into cheap frames. The otherr exhibitor has painted onto plexiglass sheets, various layers of plexiglass are layered over one another in white plastic frames. 

Finding it unconvincing go upstairs. The speeches have finished and the music has begun. The music, played by a saxophone player and a guitarist is good and well worth listening to. It is surprising to be known by so many people, they all make their greetings. There are a few people whom it is nice to meet again.

Leave when the music finishes, go home, ruminate a while, and then go to the photographic gallery. The gallery owner gives a cup of coffee, a small espresso. Look at the photographs again, all the portraits. They are to be left hanging there for another week. Later, in the Italian café, have a long talk about things over a cup of coffee.

And go shopping, and go home.

In the evening the son is there, have a chat with him. He tells of a few things that he has experienced. He is studying computer science and his knowledge of the technology allows him to predict that the bubble around the artificial intelligence will burst as soon as people realise that it is no more than a statistically based information retrieval model. Perhaps he is right. There is no new information there.