The Moon is Down; I have not heard the clock
I wanted to share a quick post about something that's made me significantly happier over the past year: knowing what the phase of the moon is on any given day. Importantly, I don't do this with any kind of computer tool. It's a proxy for "am I spending enough time outside", but because I don't let myself cheat and rely on actually seeing the moon at least every few days, I've succeeded in not Goodharting myself, at least so far. One of the things that helped me do this successfully was figuring out what time of day I could expect to see the moon during the different phases. I know, I know, it's a trivial exercise in orbital mechanics, so maybe all of you do this instinctively, but it wasn't something anyone ever explained to me explicitly. It actually took two disparate works of fiction to make the connection for me. The first literary clue comes from my favorite Shakespeare play, Macbeth. Scene II, Act I starts with Banquo and Fleance in the court of Macbeth's castle: > Banquo: How goes the night, boy? > > Fleance: The moon is down; I have not heard the clock. > > Banquo: And she goes down at twelve. > > Fleance: I take't, 'tis later, sir The second clue (here's where the penny really dropped) is from Cormac McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses, where the main character says "First quarter moon sets at midnight where I come from." Of course, the true first-quarter moon sets at midnight regardless of where you are because at (solar) midnight, the place you're standing is facing as far from the sun as it can be, and the first quarter moon means that the sun-moon-earth angle is a 90-degree angle. (This is also true at the third-quarter moon, but at that phase, the moon comes up at midnight). To be more explicit, at the new moon, the moon is almost between the sun and the earth (if it's exactly between, you get a solar eclipse!) so the moon rises and sets near when the sun does, but it's tough to see. A waxing crescent moon comes up gradually later in the
Another way to think about diamandoids is to consider what kind of organic chemistry you need to put them together the "traditional" way. That'll give you some insight into the processes you're going to be competing with as you try to assemble these structures, no matter which technique you use. The syntheses tend to go by rearrangements of other scaffolds that are easier to assemble but somewhat less thermodynamically stable (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diamantane#Production for example). However, this technique gets arduous beyond 4 or 5 adamantane units:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diamondoid
Agreed that the Nanoputians aren't impressive. Lots of drugs are comparably complex, and they're actually designed to elicit a biological effect.
The B12 synthesis is sweet, but I'll put in a vote for the Woodward synthesis of strychnine (done using 1954 technology, no less!):
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strychnine_total_synthesis#Woodward_synthesis