Path is a service which "helps you share life with the ones you love". The company behind Path recently courted controversy when it emerged that the iPhone app which facilitates this love in automatically uploads a users entire address book and stores it, unencrypted, on Paths servers.

Some additional details can be found on Arun Thampi's blog, and on netmagazine.com.

Path say that users' address books are uploaded to make the process of connecting with people they know more straightforwards. But taking the contact information of an entire address books worth of people then storing it unencrypted, and behaving as though you didn't ever consider the privacy concerns raised by doing so, inspires very little confidence.

Path proposes to address this issue by implementing an "opt in" option for the address book upload feature.

An "opt in" from Path is not a suitable response. The problem is not restricted to the fact that user's were unaware of their contact's information being uploaded.

As a non user, I don't want a company I don't trust, and who operate a service I don't agree with, to store my information. At all. Not even if my friends tick an "opt in" option. It's not my friends information to share.

I emailed Path for some guidance about how to ensure they never store my information but haven't yet received a response.

Shivering by the radiator in KEX, I watched through the window as the crowd gathered below. It was a grey but care free day.
John Grant arrived soon after, his mp6 half wrapped in black plastic and half heartedly rebranded "Hawai", which struck me as amusing.
He bypassed the crowd (actually a queue of sorts waiting to gain entry to see him perform) as I spoke to Andrea, Natalie and Natasha, some American friends and roommates.
Downstairs the music began to play so we left our room to attend.
Beyond the radio station banners, Reykjavíks blustery autumn weather obscured the sea views and distant mountains. A creeping sense of isolation provided the backdrop to John Grants baritone which I found both moving and, at times, unexpectedly familiar.

Have you met Johanna? She's a real inspiration and thinks I should write more. For practice, of course, and not because I'm really any good at it, but she brought it up, so that is exactly what I intend to do.

 

Yesterday was September the 11th. I'd recently bought a new camera and wanted to try it out so set off into London where I met up with Donald.

We saw Anonymous, anonymously traipsing around trafalgar square, handing out fliers and wearing masks from that awful Wachowski brothers film they seem to like so much. They seemed to be affiliated with a man who I've seen in and around the capital before. Today he was preoccupied, hollering through a megaphone at a 9/11 conspiracy theorist who he clearly knew and disliked.

Later we made our way to the American Embassy, hoping to see a tasteful ceremony of remembrance. That's where I filmed the above video clips.

The music is by LeLoup. You should buy it if you like it.

This evening the BBC broadcast part one of a two part series titled "How Facebook Changed the World".
The series focuses on the Arab spring and attributes its successes to the use of social media, the shows title even specifically naming Facebook as the facilitator of social and political upheaval which is ongoing in parts of the world.
While it's true that Facebook has its part to play, I wonder if it's any less relevant to mention the role of Intel for providing the processors which power the computers being used; or Carl Zeiss for providing optics for some of the cameras used to document events; or Bic for making some of the lighters used to torch vehicles; or Colt for manufacturing some of the weapons used by government forces; or the companies who provide the clothing worn by those shot dead on the streets...
There's a more interesting story to be told, and there is a more important message to be delivered, than ever could be through this fascination with, and exaltation of, my least favourite advertising platform.
Facebook didn't do anything. People did.

Watching "Red or Black" last night, I was struck by a moment of enlightenment so profound I felt inclined to send Syco an email. After a failed attempt to find a contact email address, I sent the following to ITV instead:

Dear ITV,

I had hoped to email this to Syco tv directly but couldn't find a suitable email address. I'm not sure I'm emailing the right address but would be grateful if you could pass this information on to the relevant parties.

I'd like to propose a new game show for Saturday night TV viewing. The show will be called "Ant or Dec?" and will work as follows:

Ant and Dec enter a room.

Each of the dynamic duo holds an envelope but noone knows what is contained inside the envelopes.

One thousand members of the public are arranged in a circle around the outside of the room. A spotlight illuminates the centre of the room.

Ant and Dec stand in the spotlight and choose one member of the public at random.

The random member of the public must instantly and decisively shout out loud the name of either Ant or Dec.

The selected member of the dynamic duo (either Ant OR Dec) then opens their envelope to reveal what is inside.

The contents will be a single sheet of paper and will read either "WINNER" or "LOSER".

During each episode, one of the envelopes will contain the word "winner" and the other the word "loser". To be clear, the duo hold one of these envelopes each. Noone will know which of the words is in which envelope until the moment of the big reveal.

Winners of the competition become instant billionaires with a grand prize value equal to the number of vulnerable vocalists exploited during this nights episode of the xfactor times one billion.

The loser can sell their sob story to The Sun and jet around on budget airlines pretending to be famous forever more.

Independent adjudicators will be mentioned at some stage during the show, the floor in the room where the show is set will be impossibly shiny, and there will be a gargantuan screen or two in the background filling the walls with moving shimmering spheres or something equally obscure.

There is potential for a pyrotechnic display and, after the show airs, a competition could run asking the tv audience "a, b or c? (calls cost a tenner, seek permission, the answer is c, etc)".

Each show lasts precisely 30 seconds with the remaining hours time slot given over to, perhaps, one of those frustrating spinner things off the Internet which doesn't really tell you how much longer you need to wait but still make you feel like significant progress is being made, reassuring you that the wait is totally worthwhile. Or maybe you could broadcast just the big shiny moving spheres to allow people at home the opportunity to imagine that they are themselves in the studio, pretending like they are potential future billionaires (which is presumably the point in any of Syco's productions).

So what do you think?

Am I a total genius or what?

Grant.

Sent from my Amstrad E-M@iler

You know those days when you feel like you're just about ready to check out? Like a cup of coffee might be quite nice but there's no milk in the fridge? And since you suggested going to the supermarket, you're committed to making that trip, if only because, in the moment after vocalising your thoughts, you agreed to collect some tin foil and soya milk for your flatmate, who is totally on board with the idea of going to Sainsburys but is currently busy cooking swordfish? So since you're mild mannered and actually don't mind doing a favour for someone you consider to be a friend, and since that cup of coffee is now all the more appealing, you set off for the supermarket and are surprised to find it's not raining? Which is a relief.

And on the way to the shop you're passed by someone on a bike, which isn't unusual, but their presence somehow grabs your attention and you consider that they look like someone who might in another life have been, or maybe one day will yet become, a friend? The thought passes as they turn the corner and disappear forever.

Only, you were mistaken. As you turn the corner, there they are! Just waiting at the traffic lights in their casual attire and that haircut which first caught your eye. Waiting! At these traffic lights! And the moment becomes awkward because you learned months ago never to wait at these traffic lights. So it dawns on you that you'll soon pass them by and you wonder if you should exchange glances. A friendly smile perhaps? Or you could stop and say hi to save them the embarrassment of trailing behind as you, this pedestrian, overtakes? You grow anxious as you approach and decide that, yes, this person seems pleasant, but no, you're under the Woolwich Road flyover… The setting is all wrong. Besides, Christ, this person is on wheels… communication is definitely out of the question. So you keep your eyes fixed to the ground and blaze a trail across the road, only to be overtaken a few moments later and watch this mysterious stranger once again disappear from view, and so also from your life. Forever.

But no! You are mistaken. Again! That bike chained to the sign post in the car park looks familiar and that person entering the store, the one you've now come to recognise as very definitely attractive, is someone you know something about… You know that they know the green cross code. Which is something, I suppose.

So you pick up the milk and the tin foil, and the soya milk. Then you start meandering the aisles looking for other things to buy in the hope that you might bump into that cyclist in lounge wear. And on this hypothetical occasion, if the soya milk were to fall, for example, you'd be able to point out that while you're not much of a hippy and can't stand the taste of this stuff, you're flatmate is and can, and you're doing him a favour because he's back at home cooking swordfish and you're actually an alright person like that… and from that moment friendship would bloom.

But the moment never comes.

Instead you leave with a bag of sugar you'd been meaning to pick up for days, plus the groceries you came for, and thinking that maybe you don't want fish for tea tomorrow but you'll just wait and see. And the last you see of the cyclist is when they disappear behind a mountain of fruit where you hope you'll find them next time you visit but realise that probability is already conspiring against you.

Yeah. It's been one of those days.

 

Everybody single file as the maestro emerges, baseball cap on, pen in his hand. Photographs, signatures and nervous small talk. He entertains all.

"Your turn Amanda".

Amanda steps forwards, ticket at her fingertips, arm outstretched. Grinning.

"Amanda...", he pipes up. "Amanda M... Ma... Mo... Morris?"

A quick glance up. Uncertainty in his eyes. He retracts.

"No... Yes!? Amanda Morris..."

He pauses. Then:

"MORRISON??"

Her arms flap wildly. A playful push in his direction and she exclaims:

"HOW DID YOU DO THAT!?!?"

This is a perfect moment.

Even though it was written on her ticket all along.

Saturday. 7am. Much too early.

I'd like to brave the winter mornings. It would be nice to take in the crisp air, and wake to the sunrise and distant sounds of city life. Sometime. But not today. On this day, Saturday the 20th of November 2010, at 7.01am, I'm already back asleep.

8.45am. I'm running late. Shit.

I'm rushing now. Every person is an obstacle. And the escalators... the bloody escalators. Never in my life have I queued for an escalator before moving to London. Where exactly is City University, anyway? I consult Google. Almost there.

A warm welcome from a man I do not recognise as I stumble through the doorway. I must look flustered. My still fuzzy brain becomes occupied with an unexpected nervousness for the day ahead. I don't know what to expect, but, worse, I have no idea what is expected of me. Why didn't I just wait for the follow up notes?

I needn't have worried. I'm not the last to arrive and proceedings are being delayed by a broken projector. Moreover, I'm in good company. Plus there's christmas cake in my bag! Can't wait for the tea break. Though I can't see a kettle anywhere...

We're gathered around a table now: Benjamin, Jan, Jon, Sagi and me. We're team number four and don't have time to waste thinking up an exciting name, so settle on "FourTeam". On reflection, "The Fantastic Fourth (team)", or similar, should have been an obvious choice.

We are to design the "ideal interface to track & trace relevant online content, visited across multiple devices and locations". We set about dismantling the brief, picking it apart in an attempt to define the problem which we're trying to solve. It quickly becomes clear that it's too much to tackle in one day. Instead, we focus on a solution for one type of user: the person who's online experience is based entirely on the links they receive in emails from their friends. We model this user on some of our family members so it's easy to sketch out a persona to keep us on track with our design. We call him Dave (because "everyone knows a Dave").

Lunch comes and goes and still there's no sign of a kettle. I open the cake regardless and it is delicious.

Armed with our research and some information gathered from other group's during a round of mid-morning presentations, we plough on with the design phase of our project. Leisa Reichelt visits and her guidance is invaluable. She also offers Jelly Bellys which she insists are the fuel of any successful team. I'm slightly disappointed at the lack of cinnamon flavoured beans, though my favourite are the pear ones, of which there are plenty.

A tea break marks the return of Benjamin, who I have feared mugged for some time. He had taken a longer lunch break than he intended but it's not a big deal. There is no pressure today. In much the same way as there is no kettle.

We finish the day with a round of presentations in which we discuss our process and present our final design. We are reminded that the story of the process leading to a design is as important as the design itself.

No team's solution is perfect, but it is clear that this isn't the point. I leave feeling inspired and having gained an awful lot from the design jam experience. I can't wait for the next one and would encourage anyone to attend if there is one happening near you!

I always found the web community inaccessible before moving to London. It's definitely encouraging to see more affordable conferences, events like Dundee Web Standards, and other design jams cropping up outside of the capital. I've found attending these kinds of events to be a massive benefit.

Thanks to my team, to the other teams, and to all the organisers, mentors and sponsors too!

Our teams wiki: http://www.designjams.org/wiki/FourTeam

Stalk me: http://twitter.com/#!/_maximus