• Auther image

    • Carvalko

    REGULATORY CONSIDERATION FOR LOCATION BASED IDENTIFICATION

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    We may be entering a period where smartphones may be used to verify and track those immune to COVID-19. Read this thorough analysis, by 3 of the world's leading authorities on issues that need consideration, before proceeding, lest we stumble into problems we had no appreciation for. http://www.katinamichael.com/research/2014/1/1/the-regulatory-considerations-and-ethical-dilemmas-of-location-based-services-lbs  ..
    Read More

    The regulatory considerations and ethical dilemmas of location-based services (LBS) : A literature review

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
      We may be entering a period where smartphones may be used to verify and track those immune to COVID-19. Read this thorough analysis, by 3 of the world's leading authorities on issues that need consideration, before proceeding, lest we stumble into problems we had no appreciation for. http://www.katinamichael.com/…/the-regulatory-consideration…..
    Read More

    Remember the Heroes

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    As I write today sheltered in place, out there somewhere nurses, doctors, and medical attendants are working around the clock at their peril ministering to those caught up in a contagion that’s spreading around the world.     I’m reminded of someone, who in 1952 quit her job, operating a 25,000 pound punch-press at the one of the grease filled factories that framed my hometown, for one that exposed her to another sort of peril—nursing.     It was a time when medicine had yet to halt deadly diseases like polio or tuberculosis. In our town those with contagious disease, menin..
    Read More

    The Ides of March

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
      It’s March 15 and the Ides of March are upon us. It marks the Roman deadline for settling debts of all stripes, one which in 44 BCE became notorious, when Julius Caesar was assassinated, thus turning the world in another direction. On this day, I’m wondering if the world is at another turning point. If so how can I tell? And if it’s a turning point, in what direction should I be looking?     For decades I’ve been fascinated with why people come to believe in things. I’ve written about it, taught courses, and sweated out many decisions before more than one jury or judge over a..
    Read More

    CONSERVING HUMANITY at the DAWN OF POSTHUMAN TECHNOLOGY

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
        Carvalko examines the latest scientific and technological developments likely to shape our post-human future. Using a multidisciplinary approach he details the latest gene engineering technologies that will lead to increases in human intellect and artificial intelligence that will augment the powers of the human mind. He argues that we stand at the precipice of an evolutionary change caused by genetic engineering and anatomically embedded digital and informational technologies. Delving into current scientific initiatives he posits the emergence of super smart individuals with uni..
    Read More

    My Trip thru the Art World

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    THE PRINTS MOUNTED IN THE GALLERY     I solved the mystery of where four photos I’d taken in 1969 traveled over the last 50 years. The photos were of white blood cells. What made them special were that the cells were dosed with a radioactive tracer, which under a scanning microscope, with monochromatic light, were among the first to be seen as contourograph displays, giving them a 3-D quality. All right, so much for what they were. Following the experiment, a colleague and I published an article in a scientific journal with the black and white photos. The pictures were then copied (w..
    Read More

    HOW DEEP IS THE OCEAN

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    [audio wav="https://carvalko.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/HOWDEEPISTHEOCEAN01052020WAVE.wav"][/audio] Overlapping, crisscrossing, waves un-stilled. Roiled! Who kept track, Who kept time, One, two, each second, low, soothing, Lives lived in seconds, Seventy years, eighty years Who kept track, Undulating, crests, peaks, valleys, ups, downs, Joy, ecstasy, heartache, heartbreak, we attacked, life, Every second, Full-bodied, Our hot insides, unfathomably deep, ceaseless repetition, Lapping the shore, Ripples that hardly turned a grain of sand, Now, Out there, the future, stilled...
    Read More

    I CLOSE HER EYES

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    I CLOSE HER EYES fires stormed the endless earth spinning us beginnings, no end — a dearth of light, no dark, down, no up, a child cries, no child — weightlessness memory, stark whiteness, the iron-framed bed, all's been said, I close her eyes . . . [audio wav="https://carvalko.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/ICLOSEMYEYES107sp.wav"][/audio]..
    Read More

    FINISHING SCHOOL-learning the order of things

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    The peasant, or mechanic, imbibed the useful prejudice that he was advanced to the more dignified profession of arms, in which his rank and reputation would depend on his own valor; and that, although the prowess of a private soldier must often escape the notice of fame, his own behaviour might sometimes confer glory or disgrace on the company, the legion, or even the army, to whose honours he was associated. On his first entrance into the service, an oath was administered to him with every circumstance of solemnity. He promised never to desert his standard, to submit his own will to the comma..
    Read More

    A FAIRY TALE- Gulliver Updated

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    At first, the Lilliputians are hospitable to Trump. They are a people who revel in displays of authority and performances of power. Republican senators seem especially so impressed, but are also wary of the threat that his size poses to them. The Lilliputians reveal themselves to be a people who put great emphasis on trivial matters. For example, which end of an egg a person cracks becomes the basis of a deep political rift within that nation, some states turn from red to blue.   But as much as they trifle on the inane, Lilliputians easily ignore that Russia, the nations mortal enemy, act..
    Read More

    John F. Kennedy-62 years ago

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    Fifty-six years ago, this weekend, we repeatedly crossed and traveled over a Dallas route with a presidential motorcade that showed President John F. Kennedy’s head unnaturally convulse forward and then jerk backward as slugs from a “lone gunman’s” rifle recoiled to change our lives and the course of world politics with less than a few grains of gun powder. Kennedy died at the Parkman Hospital in Dallas, November 22, 1963. The episode seared itself into our bones. Commissions would convene to investigate, research, marshal facts, debate, hypothesize and never satisfy many of us as to what happ..
    Read More

    SEVERING OF THE SPECIES

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    Severing of the Species Implications of Genetic Editing and Artificial Intelligence on the human substrate[1]   Joseph R. Carvalko, Jr. Interdisciplinary Center for Bioethics, Yale University New Haven, Connecticut, USA [email protected]         Abstract—This paper reports on the confluence of current data gathering such as genomic-wide association studies,  related to the heritability and manipulation of traits, and bioengineered processors, which combined have the potential to influence the further development of our species. Specifically addressed are: genetic..
    Read More

    PARADOX OF HOPE

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
        The bounty of affluence trickles to wet the lips of the have-nots while we applaud ourselves for our generous contemplation, tightly held in clenched white knuckled fists that protect the tokens of our prosperity, that grant fortune to the fortunate upper, that let drip the fluid remains to the tolerated middle, that deposits the soft dung for the bottomed masses who persevere on a desolate patch on a parched plain in the center of an Eden despoiled by the gluttonous interests of despots, politicians, and the high priests of industry whose blindness protects them from their ugly satisfacti..
    Read More

    THERE WILL NEVER BE ANOTHER YOU

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    At times the future seemed long in coming, but looking back life passed so fast. If you didn't grab hold, you missed it. I can’t count the times you passed through my mind—What would Bobby think? Mostly when I looked at nature. Maybe because nature embodied freedom, and freedom embodied you.  I regret not going all in, but looking back I tried to stay upright, maintain some kind of balance or perhaps peace. Or because it terrified me to let go. In any case, it makes no sense to think about “what ifs,” if for no other reason than because it takes away from looking ahead.  I do have another regr..
    Read More

    WINDOWLESS

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    IMPEACHMENTS bring back memories that I'd long shelved for good reason. Oh, not the reason you may think, i.e., living vicariously through the excising of an affront to our collective sense of how public officials should behave. Although, there is a vicarious part, because, during the Nixon hearing  the summer of 1974, I was taking my first constitutional law class and obsessed with the hearings--, to the degree that I set my cassette tape recorder in front of the radio each morning, making sure I didn't miss a verbal moment. As fate would have it, eight years later, I became friends and partn..
    Read More

    21,900 DAYS AGO

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    On this day, 21,900 days ago, a train took a young man in search of his himself, a journey beginning on a rainy and cold October morning on the same planked platform that took his father to war fifteen years earlier. He boarded the train and sat looking out over the small crowd gathered on the platform. He saw the tears glistening in his mother’s eyes. The train jerked forward and then settled into a low,  steady crawl out of the station then crossed a long black trestle that paralleled the Washington Avenue Bridge a few hundred feet to the north. The bridge spanned the oily Pequonoch River co..
    Read More

    SEPTEMBER BRINGS ME BACK TO JUNE

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    It was the summer of 1959, I’d just finished my junior year at Central High and needed a job. My uncle Louie, through a family connection found me a job working as a short order cook for Tony Castagnolas, a druggist on the other side of town. I actually had met Tony years earlier, when my old man and I built a wall around his house in the ritzy section of town. Tony was primo to Capo Joe Castagnolas, who lived in the Hollow, the Italian enclave our family was from. In fact Joe’s wife was comadre to my aunt Maggie. While working at the store, from time to time I’d see Tony’s daughter sashay in...
    Read More

    Chocolate Martini Novel by Valerie Lee

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    Chapter 1 - Continued   Ensconced in the back seat Malone deposited headphones on her ears and grooved to the euphonic sounds of Deep Forest.    As the car made the voyage downtown, the colors and classes of New York flashed by and everyone, regardless of pigment seemed to morph into each other like a small wave gathering momentum until it was a huge crashing crest of humanity.   Before she knew it, the car pulled to a stop on Greenwich Street in front of The Muffin Spot. A Sistah the color of cashew nuts with ground paprika undertones, sporting starter locks, sat at a table by the window..
    Read More

    SHOW SOME HEART

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    [audio mp3="https://carvalko.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/001_FOLDER01_001_Joe_19080815_2019_08_08_19080815.mp3"][/audio] "Government please show some heart, let my parent be free and everyone else."..
    Read More

    IN MEMORY OF BILLY BOY

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    My father Billy, whose father was Billy, named me Billy, like America ain’t enough awash in Billy: Joel, Graham, Bob Thornton. But I’m not just any Billy. I’m “Billy,” keyboard drifter, 57th Street, Central Avenue, Route 66, flophouses, roadhouses, whorehouses, the Mandalay Bay Hotel and Casino along a Las Vegas strip (old town). Now a gray-haired man and his piano, fakebooks for the exotic one-act dancers, the Saturday night comedian at Billy’s Castle, bar rooms, dives and beer halls, no longer playin’ the moneyed high society ballrooms for phony smiles, movers, shakers layin' an oily sheen o..
    Read More

    A PORTRAIT OF MELA SUSÉ

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    It’s not the easel red-faced posing bare, It’s the brushes that keep me from daubing A palette of magentas and iridescent blues,   It’s not the swirl and eddy of your contours, It’s that brushes have no bristles to tell The legends scrolled across your brow,   It’s not the blackness of your Native hair, It’s the yellow days the sun reflected off Each strand, the nights caught in hard-bitten rain,   It’s not the chocolate of your Castilian eyes, It’s the wistful tears shed for the poet’s lines, For the pain they have soaked in,   It’s not the redness of your Grecian lips, It..
    Read More

    PEPPERMINT LOUNGE-1969

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    I met Clove for the first and last time at the Peppermint Lounge, outside Biloxi, Mississippi. It was a Sunday night. Over a few whiskies she'd told me  she was widowed, living with her grandmother.  She was full Choctaw-- high cheekbones, raven black hair and deep-set brown eyes. She stood at about my height, 5’10” or so, but unlike me, had an hour glass shape. She told me about life up on the “res” in Neshoba County, Mississippi, where she grew up. Two years earlier her husband’s bomb wing had been deployed to U Tapao, Airfield in Thailand, to conduct sorties over North Vietnam.  She'd gone..
    Read More

    GOOD MORNING BLUES

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    This is a song, the lyrics which were written by Huddie William Ledbetter, the real name of Lead Belly, an American folk and blues singer, musician and songwriter. The version I perform uses lyrics from a Lead Belly/Lomax version, where I added my own melody. Lead Belly was born January 20, 1888 and died December 6, 1949. He was notable for his strong vocals, virtuosity on the twelve-string guitar, and the folk standards. Good Morning Blues, had material added by his friend Alan Lomax. Lead Belly had been in and out of prison, over this life, and in 1939, Lead Belly once again returned to pris..
    Read More

    When America Did Something, Not Because It Was Easy But Because It Was Hard

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
        I saw the dark side of the Moon in the company of a few, who like me, were to bear witness to something for the first time in human history.   On August 10, 1966, a daylight meteor was seen in the sky from Utah to Canada. It’s said to be the only known case of a meteor entering the Earth’s atmosphere and leaving it again. It was also on that day, at 2:26 p.m., Eastern time, from Cape Kennedy,  Lunar Orbiter 1, the first spacecraft to orbit the Moon, was launched. Four days later, at 8:43 a.m., Eastern time, the spaceship successfully entered an orbit around the Moon, becoming the..
    Read More

    MI CASITA

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    I need but listen to this to imagine what it would be like if I were denied mi casita in NM. I can't help but think about the families that will be whisked away today. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wxHSQHfdFbM#action=share   Where do I come from, my friend? Qué de donde amiga vengo?, from a little house that I have below the wheat field de una casita que tengo más abajo del trigal from a small house for a pretty woman who wants to accompany me de una casita chiquita para una mujer bonita que me quiera acompañar has a few vines in front tiene al frente unas parras where the cicadas sing..
    Read More

    SINCE I FELL FOR YOU BY JOE

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    Was it her chestnut hair or the moon’s rays that leapt off in highlights after downpours in life’s gray rain? Was it the glitter drawn from youth’s eyes, or the ocean of tears shed for the days spent shackled—the suffering they once and again had witnessed? No, it was her lips, vermilion, strong-willed, sensual, and how they moved over the countless poems she murmured to keep us from knowing—She’d faded to blue, into an impassable orb, pirouetting like dust adrift in a shaft, the dance inseparable from the dancer, until the one moved too quickly—One wept. One laughed, shortly before she vanish..
    Read More

    ENDERS ISLAND

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    Sound has an uncanny way to take us back in time. I once had the good fortune to spend time on an isolated island off New England.  Mornings, I'd take a secret path that stopped at a seawall. I went to hear the crash of waves, the screech of gulls, while gushing idioms on paper scraps, words marveling over the joy that made for fleeting days, or the nights the islanders sang, or the chapel, where feathers floated through the air as we hailed meandering poets reciting odes and poesy. Strange that I can't find that isle, or remember  the phrases or words we'd crushed into verse, but the melody o..
    Read More

    MOONGLOW BY JOE

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    In South Dakota you can drive in nearly a straight line across I-90 for ten hours enveloped in standing corn and well kept farms yielding, if not essentially financial wealth, a wealth of purity wrung from hard work and an abiding faith in the Almighty. As a young man I worked briefly on a ranch, where the nearest town, of 500 people, was 14 miles. I remember going to the high school football game there, Saturday night 6 boys on a team. People in pick ups came from all over. The place put me in mind of the play/movie Picnic, where I felt like Hal Carter, except he was a college dropout, passin..
    Read More

    BAGS’ GROOVE

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    As a kid I lived for a time in my grandparent’s house, an old Victorian, across the street from the Blue Moon Bar, smack in the middle of the city’s largest African American neighborhood. In those days music was either played on a juke box or live. On hot summer Saturday nights it was always live. From my second floor bedroom window, I could look into the barroom, where high heels were kicked off and guys swung the gals around like dolls. If I stayed awake long into the early morning, I’d hear the music change over, from a ruckus jump jitterbug or milder swing, to bebop, and a melodic softer b..
    Read More

    PIECE OF ME- Not an Obit, but a Reflection.

    | Carvalko
    |
    0 comments
    My Dad was born of immigrants, 1921, in Attleboro, Massachusetts. As a kid he lived in New York, during the depression, working on a bakery truck before school. He married at 18, had me,  and at 23 went to war. He saw life, probably not to different from the way young men in his time and place saw it, as something hard. After the war, he returned to Bridgeport, and worked in the same factory for over forty years, lived in the same house until he died, sixty years later. We are cast by genes and shaped in childhood, together channeling how we survive and become “someone” at the same time. Until..
    Read More

    Join the Mailing List

    Enter your email address below to sign up for the JOE CARVALKO Mailing List.

      eBooks

      Read Joe Carvalko's releases as eBooks. You've enjoyed his work in print and now-for the first time- digitally on Kindle or Nook. Read More »

      Facebook

      Content copyright 2013. CARVALKO.COM. All rights reserved.