“Standing at the shore of this overwhelming sea, instead of trying to swallow it all in, the new masters of information skim across it, picking out things from all over, and diving in deep only when necessary. Maybe more importantly, the true masters aren’t the ones who simply accumulate knowledge; they’re those that reconfigure it into something new”.
From The Masters of Data, another good article at the Toronto Standard on life in the digital age.
I was just saying that it was about time that LOL made the cut. I didn’t expect a symbol to make an appearance as a verb, but I guess the OED knows best. Anyways, language is always is transit, and it’s a wasted effort to gripe over rampant modern usage. Even if it gets under your skin, these “initialisms” aren’t going anywhere. Not as long as your kids are allowed to use instant messengers. Read the full report from GOOD here.
Publishers found yet another way to apply old paperback paradigms to new eBook technology. HarperCollins decided that US libraries will be alllowed to lend eBooks only 26 times before they are forced to buy a new copy (yes, libraries are being punished because, in theory, books don’t last that long. Not, however, in practice).
These are the results from Collaborative writing project #1. The project received eight submission. Not bad for a first attempt. Responses after the winner’s plug.
WINNER’S PLUG:
CHOICE Cambodia Charity by Expats
* * *
Winner is Joshua David. He wrote:
“I’m just saying, I don’t think most people care either way,” he said as he put another plate on the drying rack. —Read on »
Be clever, vulgar, funny, sarcastic, mean, sad, or drunk, as long as you’re creative. (100 words or less.)
Send your response to submit at tangiblemotion dot com, or post it in the comments below. The best entries will be published with author credit. Winner gets a free hypertext plug and bragging rights.
Deadline: 02/15 Tuesday at 11:59 PM, EST.
UPDATE: Results posted here with runners-up. Joshua David takes first.
Horizontalism and Readability by Frank Chimero – “We may be able to kiss our scrollbars goodbye, but only if the implimentations are seamless and better than the existing paradigm.” Get on it, designer and programmer friends. We need this.
At this moment, there are eight books in my room that I have started and not finished. That, if nothing else, is a testament to my character.
Do not look at the dirty clothes strewn across the floor. Or my unmade bed. Or the colorful photographs I found online and printed and taped on the mirror so I don’t have to wrestle with my reflection every time I walk past it. —Read on »
Video games. Used to love them as a kid. Couldn’t get enough. I would sit at my computer or in front of the television with a controller gripped in my sweaty hands for hours, end on end, like a chain smoker burns through cigarettes, not even bothering to take a break, just lighting a new one off the dying embers of the previous fix. Now, when I buy a game, it keeps my attention for a day, or a couple weeks at the most, and then I lose interest. I forget all about it. Maybe I still buy games because I like the trailers for them, or the artwork on the cover, or both. Mostly I buy games because they’re a continuation of a series that gave me thousands of hours of enjoyment as a child, like Starcraft 2 or the Mario Bros. Wii, both of which I saw in the store and just had to have on impulse; both of which I have ceased to play over a month ago and now collect dust on my shelves. —Read on »
Remember the first book that ever thrilled you? How it smelled, what it weighed in your hand, how you felt as you opened the cover? Recall that exquisite feeling – part fulfillment, part desire – and write about it.
I don’t remember exactly which book it was. It was probably one of the countless fantasy novels I devoured in my adolescence. But it could have been earlier, say, with one of the Dr. Seuss books I begged my parents to read to me, or which I read to them, repeatedly. Either way, each new book with which I fall in love reanimates that exquisite feeling and I recognize it because it starts in the gut. Not in the stomach, that is higher up and associated with hunger; the gut is lower, and the climbing vines that grow from there twine around the heart and on up into the throat until they are bursting to emerge in the fresh air. The seed is planted the moment I connect with the book. Maybe it is the image on the cover, or the title, which happens more often than not these days. It can also be the name of a familiar and beloved author with whom I have had good experiences, like Hemingway, or sometimes the description on the back cover or the hook on the first page into which I managed to sink my teeth. The dusty smell of a book amuses me but it is not connected to the feeling of being thrilled by a book. It is amusing because the smell of age is the opposite of the magic of discovery imparted by a good book, and it is astonishing to find such relevant wisdom in a volume many years older than yourself. Optimally a good book will fit into your hand and is small enough so that you can read in the most comfortable position possible, which if you’re not tired is lying on your back. Hardbacks are ungainly. I expect to find a new world between the pages of a book, or a unique invention by the author, or an insightful discovery – all of this is magic. I have been known to set aside a book halfway through because it failed to entertain me, delight me, educate me, or otherwise live up to my expectations.
Reading, writing, seeing, giving: Thinking for a Living.
