This write up by Buster Benson at Medium is a great, thoughtful piece on how he’s getting real return from the quality of life tracking he is doing with Reporter. He’s categorizing responses to Reporter surveys by whether what he’s doing at the time is “quality time” and then adding detail that at explains why or why not. It’s exactly the kind of thing I thought about recently, but much more fully realized than my current use of Reporter — and it motivates me to refine and improve my own use, to ask questions of the information I am collecting and then find ways to act on it.
Pixel And Dimed: On (Not) Getting By In The Gig Economy: Sarah Kessler really takes the wind out of the “monetize your passion in your free time” marketing of errand and odd-job marketplaces like TaskRabbit:
I spend the biggest chunk of my time, about two hours, labeling photo slideshows at a nickel each. Each of them has five photos, and each photo has 11 pages of labels to use on it. That means that it takes at least 55 clicks to earn $0.05. There are slideshows of cats on couches. Cats on beds. Dogs on beds. Cats in sinks. Dogs with cakes. Cats with cakes. Cats with pizza. Cats with windows. Dogs in car mirrors. Dogs with bananas.
No surprise, it takes an awful lot of small gigs to even begin to get by (she has one or two good days in four weeks of hustling), but Kessler’s story shows just how seriously atypical the social media success stories are.
“That Bites!” is a documentary about food allergies and living with food allergies by a 12-year old kid in Chicago. Good for him. He’s funded, but I would love to see him get a ton of money and go big with this thing. Our son has a bunch of food allergies and it’s scary that he could be killed by a bit of peanut cross-contamination. Food is so central to so many activities, and his inability to casually participate — or, say, to get on a plane without our worrying — is profoundly saddening to me. Broader understanding of food allergies, their seriousness, and how to minimize risk to others in environments like restaurants is critical.
Originally posted March 8, 2014 / Updated 2014-03-29
It is disappointing to report that after a year and a half of uphill battles and unimagined setbacks, after several costly efforts to regroup and find another way, options to keep TextDrive growing have run out, and we will cease operations on the 14th of March, 2014.
Six days at the time I write this, March 8, until TXD turns off the lights, and customers have yet to receive notice via email or on the front page of the business.
I’m moving to Kaizen Garden. There’s an active forum there where former TextDrive customers are helping each other out. So far my migration has gone perfectly smoothly. I’ve cribbed some sql and rsync commands from Joel Dueck’s set of helpful migration pointers.
The servers at Ubiquity stayed up a couple of weeks longer than expected, but finally went dark yesterday (March 28, 2014). Judging by the traffic at twitter an awful lot of customers were caught unaware. There was never a notification beyond the above-mentioned forum posting, and Jacques Marneweck, formerly of TextDrive and now running Kaizen Garden, has been working at all hours to field requests from stunned users and perform recovery from backup, where available, but not everyone is recoverable:
I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings to a number of users. Writing a reply where there are no backups for a users data really truly sucks. — Jacques Marneweck (@txdjm) March 29, 2014
To be very clear about a couple of things: There was no notification sent directly to customers, and this is on Dean Allen. I wish I could be stunned by this, but I’m mostly disappointed. Dean’s lack of communication is inexcusable, but unfortunately not surprising, given his absence from the operation of TextDrive after he took it over from Joyent. When the Joyent-TextDrive transition took place I noted some of my own concerns about Dean’s capability to pull it off: “… But I concluded that we’re all more or less adults, that the key folks are smarter at this stuff than I am, and that I’d trust Dean not do jump back in through a fit of (merely) fury or loyalty.” Perhaps I should have listened more to that internal warning.
And: My not entirely informed understanding is that Jacques carried the Ubiquity tab for an extra couple of weeks, on his own, in order to help with migrations, but could not perform a global notification because he never had access to the customer database itself. He has, without promise of compensation, taken on helping with recovery for users who aren’t really his customers. This after running TXD operations without pay for months.
I very much hope that Kaizen Garden succeeds profitably, both for my own self-interest of avoiding another migration, and to begin to repay Jacques for the tremendous work he has put in. To reiterate my note above about my migration, my experience there has been flawless: Hosting in an environment nearly identical to TextDrive, which means I had little to do on migration other than import a few databases, move files into place, and throw the DNS switches. It’s a highest-quality operation and has a smart, driven chief at the helm.
Joyent, Née TextDrive
For the sake of completeness, I also wrote about the original announcement of Joyent’s end of lifetime TXD hosting, back when.
Statistically, winters in Flagstaff average fifty inches of snow, and in practice we’re used to that meaning that some winters we really get dumped on, and other winters see rather little snow. The first winter we spent here brought us only a few storms, but since then we’ve had some pretty good seasons, including the whopper of a winter of 2010, when a four-day span dropped five feet of snow on us. That winter I was lucky enough to buy one of the last unsold snowblowers in town and just barely keep up with the storm.
This year we had the longest winter-time dry spell on record, ever: Over thirty days without so much as a whiff of precipitation. So the whole town was buzzing over the prospect of the storm that came through late this week and into the weekend. Reports are that it brought a couple of feet to the San Francisco Peaks, and we got wonderful rain here in town, where it stayed just too warm for it to fall as snow except for a brief period overnight.
I got out around town for an hour or so between storms, looking for good puddles, stormy light, and view of some of my favorite downtown scenes, as well as some new alleyway nooks and crannies.
The view toward the Monte Vista from the south side is one of the iconic pictures of this town, and it’s easy to see why. I can’t resist checking it out nearly every time I walk that direction. This night, the late sun poked through the clouds at just about the right time.
Downtown has a lot of streets at odd angles to one another, old gravel lots, and a mix of new and old construction — churches next door to motels next door to restaurants, and almost everywhere a view of the train tracks or buildings that once housed businesses related to the trains. The neighborhoods are home to small, old homes in different stages of repair, depending on how long they have served as rental housing for NAU students. I enjoy the mix of home construction, some of which shows a strong southwestern influence with Adobe and tile, while other homes are in the mountain town style of clapboard, shingles, corrugated metals. There’s one fascinating house downtown built out of converted shipping containers. Last night, there were some fun puddles to be found, shining up the late evening light.
I made it back to the car just as the storm really opened up again, cold hands flexing in the car after holding the camera in the wind and incipient rain — turning to slush and snow as the temperature dropped in the last block that I pulled up my hood, stuffed the camera back in the bag and made for the car.
A VSCO note
My photo walk was in part inspired by the need to get out of the house, and in part by Michael Laroque’s “Addicted” — VSCO Film 05 writeup. I really love Michael’s photography, and his discussion of Film 05 (I have Film 04 and Film 02, already) prompted me to pick it up after hedging for a few days — do I really need it?, I wondered. Michael knows that the point of these preset collections isn’t to make every photo look the same, but to find some inspiration in the looks they offer:
But it does mean I get to play with a new toolbox and with each and every release, some of the new emulations have triggered ideas, or found their way into my workflow in some shape or form. In many ways it’s like buying a great photography book… It inspires and shakes the status quo even if you don’t end up copying everything you’ve seen.
So, no, I don’t need it, and as a hobbyist I’m not going to make any money or anything. But I like them, and as I’ve mentioned previously, the film packs don’t take me back to my golden days of shooting film (though they do make me think about how long I spent shooting 35mm film in an automatic camera without thinking a moment about it); they help me find moods or textures or ideas that I might not have otherwise. So as someone who just enjoys this, it’s easily worth the price.
John Foreman is the data scientist at Mailchimp. His post about machine learning and the meaning of human agency is deep, in all ways — extremely knowledgable, expansive in scope, and intensely human. Recently I sketched some extremely un-refined thoughts about becoming part of the big data machine through passive data collection; John knows how to think through this right and sharp.
(Don’t miss the precursor piece, either: You don’t want your privacy: Disney and the Meat Space Data Race. Mickey Knows everything.)
Seth Clifford is on to something with his thoughts about Fitbit fatigue.
For a solid year it never left my side, unless I forgot it (rare), and then I was nearly inconsolable (all those lost steps!). Over time, something changed though; I was more concerned with collecting the data and having it than actually using it. It became a weird anxiety-provoking moment (pat pocket-ok it’s there-whew) that I experienced a few times a day.
I’ve had my own fitbit for a little over a year, too, and while I’ve done the pocket-pat once or twice a day myself, once the fitbit became a part of my routine it has not been much of a stressor. But I’ve never changed the default goal step number of 10,000; never tracked food or water, except at the very beginning; never built a big network of fellow social-steppers. I did, however, have a lovely fun time hooking its data into my Slogger feed and building a nicer sleep visualization than the built-in one. At the same time, however, I don’t know if it’s providing me a lot of value.
Like Seth, I listened to the recent couple of episodes of Back to Work on self-quantification and how it “can goose your mindfulness.” I really enjoy those kinds of discussions; like many data- and technology-oriented interneteers I get a little bit buzzed just thinking about the array of ways we have to gain insight into behavior and habits (As Seth says, “Numbers! Graphs! Yay!”). So in addition to Fitbit, I use Runkeeper to track my workouts, again using Slogger as the collection method to archive that data along with my App.net posts and last.fm listens, as well. All of this is partly just because, well, I can: I get a little bit of basic satisfaction doing these little integrations, tuning the tools and such.
But here’s the problem with collecting all of this stuff: Unless I’m asking questions of that data, it’s mostly just taking up space — cognitive and disk — instead of increasing my self-awareness or mindfulness. The ease of passively quantifying ourselves lets us accumulate data without setting goals or interrogating its meaning to us. At best, that means we get very little value from it; at worst, in the case of a service like Runkeeper or Fitbit we’re feeding information into a big data aggregator whose own monetization intentions are rather less ambiguous1.
Yet the impulse to learn more about myself remains compelling; this is one reason why, despite a healthy sense of skepticism about the quantified self — or at least the un-analyzed quantified self — I’m really interested in Reporter. Made partly by Nicholas Felton, famous for his annual reports and creator of Daytum, Reporter pops up a notification on the iPhone at several random times during the day to ask a handful of questions: What are you doing, where are you, who are you with, etc. While it does produce some numeric data (how many coffees did you have today?) and other information that may be expressed categorically or on a scale (how well did you sleep?), it’s really excellent at qualitative recording, and has a great flexibility for creating new questions. It can ask additional questions when you go to sleep or wake up, too.
Reporter can ask as many or as few questions as you like. The first question I added to Reporter was “Are you engaged in what you’re doing?” This is a prompt for me to think about how well I spend my time in a very general way. Sure, later I could build cross-tabs of that response with where I was or what I was doing (working, not working, etc), but for now it’s just a way to remind me to be thoughtful. The Reporter: Unofficial Survey Question Repository is a great resource for interesting items that users are adding to their surveys, and I love that a lot of them are qualitative and seeking personal insight rather than numbers:
- What surprised you today?
- What would you have done differently today?
- What are you going to focus on today?
- What are you looking forward to today?
By default, everything you tell Reporter is entirely private, stored on your device. You can optionally export to Dropbox, but there’s no service rolling it all up. So far, I really am happy with the experience and am looking forward to continuing to use it to tell myself a little bit more about myself.
- To be fair to Runkeeper and Fitbit, they both offer “pro” or paid services, and I don’t know if these effectively subsidize the free options. But all that activity data — crossed with regional, demographic, consumption and lifestyle information — must create a lot of opportunities for marketing, too. [return]
I first cribbed this story about a Minecraft player walking to the “end of the world” because there’s something kind of wonderful about that adventure, based as it is on a wondering about just what does happen at the edge of a procedurally-generated landscape. The so-called Far Lands exist because of the way the Minecraft map is generated and stored :
They’re not infinite, but there’s no hard limit either. It’ll just get buggier and buggier the further out you are. Terrain is generated, saved and loaded, and (kind of) rendered in chunks of 16 * 16 * 128 blocks. These chunks have an offset value that is a 32 bit integer roughly in the range negative two billion to positive two billion. If you go outside that range (about 25% of the distance from where you are now to the sun), loading and saving chunks will start overwriting old chunks. At a 16/th of that distance, things that use integers for block positions, such as using items and pathfinding, will start overflowing and acting weird.
So not only will the world begin to look strange, but acting within it will be strange — the further you go, the less reliable the very rules will get.
Felix Gilman’s The Half-Made World is another take on a similarly allegorical but less mathematically-built premise, in which the western edge of the world has yet to be built and is continuously contested by violently warring metaphors.
There are some predictably snarky comments to the story about gamers needing to go outside in the real world once in a while and how disappointed Edmund Hillary must be, but despite the haughty criticism of Strangers on the Internet, Kurt Mac has turned his Far Lands trek into a full-time job in addition to a funnel of charitable donations for Child’s Play, via ads/merch on his web site and youtube channel, where he broadcasts regular episodes of the adventure.
His relatively recent rise to success (since early 2011) is in contrast to the trajectory of many more YouTube entrepreneurs who are being squeezed by rapidly dropping ad rates1 and less generous sponsorship opportunities. Having aggressively encouraged producers and with content volume now exploding, Google can’t maintain the high ad rates:
Some executives of media companies that post videos to YouTube and other sites make basically the same point: YouTube is uploading videos so quickly that it can’t sell enough ads to fill all the potential spaces. It is especially lagging, they say, in selling ads to its two fastest-growing audiences: those coming through mobile devices and those overseas.
A DIY Let’s Play channel posting weekly is ridiculously low-cost against the high-value programming that Google and YouTube are pushing to create increased advertiser interest, and so much easier to be profitable — compare to the film equipment, writers, editors and other staff, and sets required for productions that more closely mirror TV. And I don’t know about US compared to overseas, but the heavy gamer audience that is feeding views and revenue to Far Lands or Bust may be particularly unlikely to be going mobile because they watch while gaming or coding. 2 So while it’s kind of amazing that a long walk in Minecraft ever had a chance at becoming a business, that particular niche — low-cost, dedicated consumer base, desktop-based — may be slightly more sustainable than big, fancy ventures. Right now, it’s hard not to wonder if Google killed the goose by building shiny production facilities and pushing expensive content when so many home-studio enthusiasts were already making stuff that people wanted to see — and that advertisers wanted to get in on.
Nic Lindh writes an entertaining and informative story about building his Hackintosh:
The complexity is also high. Remember, you’re dealing with something completely unsupported that is by its very nature complicated. You’re picking parts, tweaking BIOS settings, installing strange system extensions, and groveling through more-or-less-illiterate testosterone-soaked forum discussions trying to pick up clues on how to fix something that’s not working. The learning curve is steep.
Every once in a while I think about building one of these myself, but I don’t have long weekends to go get lost in much anymore. I think I like reading about it more than I would like the never-quite-done fiddling, despite the on-paper cost savings for a high-power Mac.
In Songs About Songs Robert McGinley Myers nicely describes some of the tension in blogging between producing one’s own original material and “chattering” as John Roderick called it recently, or deluding ourselves that meta-commentary is more substantial than it may really be. The best reader-writers are doing more than pulling from the massive volume of internet firehose stuff, synthesizing themes and ideas and presenting it back to their own readers. Which isn’t to say that kind of synthesis isn’t useful, valuable, and important, but unless it has a perspective of its own, well, it’s just a conduit.
Robert McGinley Myers:
But I’m not sure I would draw such a qualitative distinction between primary and secondary source material. Songs are not empirically better than linked list blog posts. I’d rather read a brief but beautifully crafted post on Kottke or Daring Fireball than listen to a lot of the songs currently on the radio.
Yes, but I think the differentiating factor is that a carefully observed link post at Kottke and Daring Fireball is also part of a portfolio. Readers know that Jason and John have a perspective that they bring to what they share — and what they note about it — because those smaller shared bits are part of their long writing histories, even when the added comment is brief (like a “Finally.” from Gruber). But let’s be fair to pop music, where an observer-fan might fit this year’s hit albums into a trajectory of musical themes or innovations, and therefore find much more depth and meaning to enjoy than Robert or I will.1
This is actually one reason I really enjoy reading reviews; I’ll never play, watch, read, or listen to most of the reviewed works, but I like understanding what deep subject matter experts/enthusiasts find interesting — or not — in their topics.
This line of thought started with wondering where and how to add value to a conversation about things that interest me or move me somehow. (Why it’s compelling to do this is probably another entire thing that goes back to that ever-since-the-1990s enthusiasm for making stuff online, a stint of being a scholar-blogger, and an ongoing desire — perhaps a desperate one — to do something expressive in a medium that I know a small something about.) So I’ll take as stipulated for now that a good conversation can come from both a) “primary source” (that is, original) material and b) shorter links and sharing that are part of a larger body of work, both of which represent a creative and thoughtful perspective; and then I would make a proposition based on my own dilemma: I’m not a good reader anymore.
Right now my Instapaper Gap (that’s the daily rate at which I actually get to sit down and read over the daily rate at which I accrue things to read) is hovering awfully close to zero. It’s an almost entirely aspirational tool because I’ve developed a terrible habit: I squirrel stuff away partly because I want to read it, but partly because I daydream that I’ll write about it, get engaged in the conversation and interaction and in so doing find something rewarding beyond that which comes from just, simply, reading something good.
I’ll go further: I’m a bad gamer, a decidedly mediocre listener, and an absolutely terrible viewer, because my focus is so torn between enjoying/learning/understanding, on one hand, and meta-level multitasking of all sorts on the other. In my defense, I have a three year-old, work a full-time job, and my resulting time/attention span is bifurcated in all sorts of ways. But come on, would it kill me to re-learn how to focus on things?
So I’m working on being a better reader.2 I’m just reading for its own sake, to appreciate whatever an author wants to make me feel or make me think about. This does not mean being unreflective or passive; rather, it’s letting me enjoy and focus in a different way. The Instapaper gap may not be narrowing, but it’s not approaching zero quite as quickly. And when I feel like there’s something for me to say, the overhead is perhaps a little easier to clear out.
Note: I started this post a couple of weeks ago as a draft and ended up publishing it unfinished and not realizing it. When I realized this was on the front page, I figured it was time to shore up my thinking. If you happened across that half-finished copy, well, thanks for coming back anyway to read some more.
Following up on a skim of text editor data from The Setup last summer, I thought I’d catch up now that the 2013 information is in. It’s been quite a while since I dove deeply into the source data at The Setup, so it’s possible I’m missing new editor trends; I should read up on the interviews again, but meanwhile this is another fun, quick snapshot.
Looks like after its 2012 surge, Emacs dipped steeply, while vim remained high and Sublime Text 2 grew in use (mentions) substantially. Among new, popular tools last year, Editorially has a single mention in the data, and Editorial doesn’t yet show up.
Meanwhile, interviewees at The Setup appear to remain remarkably unsympathetic to Windows Phone devices:
Mobile Devices: --------------- iPhones: 218 iPads: 145 Androids: 88 Windows Phone: 1
David duChemin, Towards Mastery. Again:
What will make better photographs is studying photographs themselves, not the ads for gear in the latest photography magazine. Photographs are made better by curious, patient, passionate, people with vision and imagination, not sharper glass. To paraphrase Ansel Adams – if the idea is crap then it doesn’t matter how big or sharp it is. Nobody cares how much damn chromatic aberration there is in your photograph; we care if there’s no heart.
One of the things I really enjoyed last year was picking up photography again, reinvogorated by a new camera and its creative potential. By far the favorite photos I made through the year, regardless of camera, are of my wife and our preschool son, but those are just for us. These are a bakers’ dozen, particularly memorable for entirely arbitrary reasons, from among the rest.
A brief exchange about pho over on App.net last week brought on a craving I couldn’t ignore. I really love Pho, especially in the wintertime when spicy, savory and aromatic broth feels just right. (To be honest, it’s great any time, of course. But it’s the kind of thing that feels particularly full of vitality when it’s cold and the sun still goes down early as it does the first week of January.) My mountain town has had a couple of Vietnamese restaurants come and go, and while the current one is hanging on it’s not really anything special. So after having had this vegetarian Pho recipe stored on pinboard for more than a year, I went for it.
The broth is vegetarian except for the optional fish sauce. I’m not vegetarian and intended to put steak in anyway, so I kept the fish sauce for a little bit more funk and saltiness. While the list of ingredients initially was off-putting in its length, it’s really not so bad, and the prep was easy because everything goes into a big pot in big chunks (including the garlic, no peeling required).
After a couple of hours simmering, the whole pot gets finely strained and you have this cinnamon- or mushroom-colored broth. It’s really lovely. We ladled it over medium-rare bison steak and garnished with bean sprouts, basil, peppers, lime and scallions. It was everything I was hoping for: Spicy from the fresh peppers and ginger and headily aromatic with anise, with just a bit of sweet balance coming from the turnip and depth from the mushrooms. Really good pho at home, I’m a believer.
By the way, I decided to put the bison steak in partly because a) I had it, but mostly b) I wanted to call this buff-pho-lo.
Of course, the day after I fussed over my own post about dead blogs, I come across this insightful, thoughtful piece by Robert McGinley Myers. There are two key passages in particular that I think are just so spot-on: One that resonates some with my thinking about “casual” blogging amid a proliferation of sharing platforms; and one passage about what he hopes to find in the future of not-dead blogging. Read the whole thing, as they say. It’s excellent and makes me want to dive in and just read everything at Robert’s blog.
Mid to late December saw a broad online conversation around Jason Kottke’s “The Blog is Dead, Long Live the Blog”. I didn’t catch up with that current1 until I read Duncan Davidson’s newsletter recently. Amid links to the Kottke essay, Alexis Madrigal’s thoughts at the Atlantic, John Scalzi, and Frank Chimero on “Homesteading”, Duncan writes
My own homesteading thoughts have lately turned not only to how to structure things on a website, but also how to share ongoing information in a way that’s timely. RSS feeds seem to continue to fade in importance and while they’re probably not going away entirely anytime soon, it’s clear that they solve only a portion of the problem.
The decommissioning of Google Reader is critical to all this. Reader was without question the hub of the reverse-chronological blog ecosystem, and Google’s discontinuing of the service created a significant sharing problem that also substantially amplified the extant trend toward “long form” writing and designery pieces like Snowfall, on one hand, and streaming social platform services, on the other. Google’s move underscores one critical piece of the story that Alexis Madrigal hits on, that “the stream is a creation of particular companies and thinkers” and not a natural product of the Internet. Whereas in 1997 “wired teens” (per Kottke) were proto-blogging with the shell accounts, ftp and web hosting provided by their colleges and ISPs, the advent of Blogger and later Google Reader would shift blog publishing and reading to a massive media landscape scale.
In the Reader+RSS era, a million ways to publish proliferated and Reader generally let them all bloom via RSS.2 I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to suggest that this infrastructure enabled what would become the Wordpress and Moveable Type empires; likewise the glut of shared web hosting services that somewhat tellingly are much more consolidated and cloud-service-oriented than they once were. I’m not trying to draw straight causal lines here, because many of these currents were on the rise prior to Reader becoming the dominant distribution and reading model, but I think it’s clear that as contemporaries they were all part of a particular technically-faciliated ecosystem that would eventually sit with Reader at its core.
Fundamentally, Reader+RSS was mostly plumbing; the services and platforms that are replacing it are not. So while we are (maybe) in a great age of diverse platforms we no longer have a unified way to consume them,3 and that’s a dilemma for people who want to read as well as people who want to create things. This may pose the largest impact to casual writers, the kind who might have fired up a hosted blog on a whim or periodically posted something of narrower or specialized interest. So much of the engagement once available to those authors has mostly dried up — while there is a bounty of ways to produce stuff, the ad hoc federations of interest collections is just harder to create and maintain without a dominant structure to put it all into. The kind whose writing is not short or pithy enough for microblogging or Twitter, not connected or viral enough to hit Medium or another curated platform4.
I have no illusions about this very site not being square in that category, but this isn’t meant to be a pity-party, only an observation/suggestion that the tools and infrastructure that for a time enabled a kind of media by the masses have again bifurcated into the micro-social and the truly mass media, and the kinds of things that survive in either of those environments are going to be different, except for blog-format sites that already have a mass readership (Daring Fireball among tech blogs, say, and Kottke and plenty of others). Everything else using that form will persist as a labor of love, an adjunct to a “more engaging model,” or a holdover from the pleistocene of the “home page.” As Scalzi writes, for those of us who want to own the things we produce and decide on our own how to present ourselves, the hobby home page is still something valuable:
I don’t see myself ever not doing Whatever, because at the end of the day I want to control my own space online and say what I want to be able to say, unencumbered by character limits or SEO-driven advertisements in the sidebars or any other sort of distraction. But if it turns out that it’s just one part of an overall online presence portfolio, well, that’s no different than it ever was … and it’s part and parcel of the fact that my presence is distributed in other ways as well
It’s clear that that function is no longer completed by that single site alone. Duncan Davidson’s newsletter prompted this post so I might as well bookend it with another of his remarks: On this shift from blog to something else, Duncan writes that “Whatever structure one uses, the urge to have one’s own presence online is certainly compelling.” For those of us who have been doing this since the 90s, that’s exactly right — and we’ll have to keep discovering and creating new ways to be expressive and find the social community to engage with.
- Self-conscious “stream” reference there, yes. [return]
- Notably, while publishing platforms proliferated, the Reader web interface was, to my fuzzy recollection, the by far dominant method to read one’s news feeds, despite a great variety of other good clients that used Reader as their backbone. [return]
- Technically, many of these publishing-platform islands do provide and support RSS, even if you have to look for it, but without the centralized service to update and access them it’s just too difficult for most users who have not migrated to feedly or feedbin to read them across their various machines and devices. [return]
- There’s a notion that this is all democratizing technology allowing everybody to have a voice, and that’s still true to an extent, but mostly in only the strictly technical sense; there’s a stratification of voices and a real class system out here. [return]
It’s January 1, 2014. I spent a good chunk of yesterday morning tuning up my still-incomplete backups over at TextDrive (as one does), enjoyed a couple of good cups of coffee and visited friends for a new year’s eve party (but did not make it until midnight; I turned into a pumpkin early and went home for a nice winter’s nap). Today I think I’ll try to bake some bread, cook some lamb, edit the pile of holiday photos I have amassed over the past week or so, and sip some bourbon.
As I type, it’s 45º F outside, so it’s possible that all this screen stuff goes out the window as I go out the door.
Piwik tells me that my top five hits here at PGH in 2013 were:
- VSCO + Fujifilm X100S — Experimenting with the very good VSCO film packs. I’m making a lot of use of Film Pack 02 these days, fond of several of the Kodak-style presets in particular. (some samples here)
- Making pictures — thinking about and eventually getting a new camera. Six months on, I find the photos from my X100s to be better and better as my use of it improves.
- pretty good hat home
- Integrating Runkeeper with Day One via Slogger — I am continuing to get a lot of pleasure from the connectivity to my various social spaces that Slogger provides, and I’m quite happy that the runkeeper connection works nicely (despite the initial setup of the API credentials being a chore).
- Alfred 2 workflows - managing a to-do list. Alfred is among the set of every good tools that enhance using my Mac. I wish I had a good equivalent at work.
Since the build system starts with pure markdown, a tiny bit of
wc at the shell can give me a few numbers:
- Total entries: 71
- Total “brief” (link or notes) posts: 35
- Total words: 16,154 (not including this post)
Entries by Month:
Jan : ******* Feb : *** Mar : **** Apr : ********* May : ***** June: **** July: *** Aug : ************* Sept: ******** Oct : *** Nov : **** Dec : *******
Today I plugged in Bigfoot to add some flair to footnotes, just in case. 1 Otherwise, this little gig has been pretty stable behind the scenes. I expect I’ll continue to post mostly using the iPad, as I have since August when I hooked up my publishing workflow to Editorial. Perhaps I’ll do a lot more mobile writing next year; I have been happy with my nice weekend afternoon routine of taking the iPad to the coffee shop to catch up.
I enjoyed the writing and thinking I did here in 2013. I have a set of notes brewing, drafts to pick up in the next days or weeks (maybe should update that Usesthis editors post to see just what happened to TextMate in the latter half of the year). I’m looking forward to it and continue to welcome feedback and comments via contact information at the bottom of the page. Thanks.
We’re home again after about a week traveling northbound to my parents’ house for Christmas. All in all, I’m exhausted. But it was a great trip, full of some wonderful memories: my son’s first time skiing (about which I can just say joy and glee and miles-wide grins) which I will remember for the rest of my life; meeting my new nephew for the first time; seeing many family and school friends for the first time in years; the way my son was perfectly happy — more than happy, content and Merry — with the very first present he found for himself under the tree, no expectations of more but then there’s more OMG (because of course there was, thanks, grandma and grandpa); feeding my nephew and rocking him to sleep; my wife being ill for most of the trip, sitting together quietly after the house had gone to sleep.
Recognizing in my son that these memories are forming for him, too, that he will remember pieces of the last week as he goes on through his own life, an evolving story that will one day be all his own.
Bring it on, 2014.
Gabe has a good write up of mail aliases, specifically at fastmail. I have used plus addressing for years, but had not known about subdomain aliasing, which works great and looks less obviously like an alias. Good tip!
This week was the twenty year anniversary of Doom. Ars Technica has a fun collection of Doom memories, and Wired has an interview with Chris Carmack that touches on the game’s design and technology decisions, and its long-lived effect on gaming.
I was in my senior year of high school when Doom was released, and I ran a BBS that experienced a lot of downtime while I shotgunned imps. For some reason, I was a keyboard-only player, and I recall being stunned at how quickly players using a mouse in a deathmatch (deathmatch!) could spin to take me down while I pursued them. As it happened, however, I didn’t play much multiplayer until going off to college the following fall with my shiny 386DX4 built by a friend who worked at a local computer store.
Aside: I spent a lot of time hanging out at Pro Computer. There’s a good story that involves my high-centering my mom and dad’s car in the parking lot by backing over a sizeable ledge that seems in hindsight to be awfully poorly placed. Somewhere somebody had an animated ANSI of the whole episode, including three friends helping rock the car back onto its wheels.
Also, This is where I tl;dr my own rant about how kids these days have it easy with their mostly reliable PC hardware. That custom DX4 was a speed demon in its day, but I was forever troubleshooting problems between its Sound Blaster and sketchy CD-ROM drive. I never did get that damn thing to play Myst.
I lived in a former frat house converted my year into a freshman men’s dorm. It wasn’t wired for Ethernet with the campus network at the time, but it was only about half full, which means it had a lot of unused phone lines that, as it happens, were nonetheless live. So, we had a reasonably high tech group of college freshmen slightly isolated by geography from the bulk of campus, with lots of high-spec hardware, 14.4kbps modems (I would upgrade to a 28.8 that winter), and an extra phone line for just about everybody.
So, yeah, we played a lot of deathmatch Doom that year.
One epic game sticks in my mind, ending with two of us, down to the last scraps of ammo and health after a furious series of frags, stalking one another for one final hit. It was the kind of finale that had housemates gathered around our CRTs in each of our rooms (also because it was time to go to dinner, come on guys, let’s do this). I had the rocket launcher and he had the plasma gun, and I rounded a corner just in time to find him — camping! — at the far end of a room. The slight travel time for both our weapons’ fire meant that we had enough time to watch, but not quite dodge effectively, as a rocket traversed one direction and plasma came the other way, for a devastating simul-frag. I recall seeing him drop, briefly mentally celebrating, and then going down myself, to hoots around me and down the hall. Brutal.
So thanks, Doom, for twenty years, you big gateway FPS you.
Rene Ritchie asks a question I’ve wondered about myself. On the same topic, why does iTunes keep insisting that I should download everything I’ve purchased? Every time I open iTunes I have to wait for the downloads to start, then bring up the window and “pause all” — no way, as far as I can tell, to just disable automatic downloading of purchased content. Guys, I going to watch all that Walking Dead on my AppleTV, not cart it around on my MacBook Pro or iPads. How many times do I have to tell iTunes?
When I was in high school, I gave up on the idea of Christmas, bitter at my discovery that going through the motions doesn’t actually result in initiation into the dominant culture. Yet Christmas remained an unavoidable holiday, and I found it was best spent watching movies and ignoring one’s parents for as long as possible. That’s when Love Actually came into my life.
Every time it ends, I wish it wouldn’t. I want the music to keep playing. I want the stories to keep unfolding. I want to live inside the warm, loving, and occasionally tragic world of the film, where not everyone gets a happy ending. Love Actually is the only film that brings me Christmas spirit—a modern, urban kind of festivity, but one that makes my heart warm like no stories of Santa or nutcrackers really can.
This is a great reflective review of a movie that I like a lot. Sonia Saraiya captures something about the about the way the film is mostly about moods and a collective excitement and mostly-gentleness.