On Farting Around
Just came across this Kurt Vonnegut interview from 1995. I kind of love his take on technology, although he can of course afford to have someone else do his typing for him:
I use a typewriter, and afterwards I mark up the pages with a pencil. Then I call up this woman named Carol out in Woodstock and say, "Are you still doing typing?" Sure she is, and her husband is trying to track bluebirds out there and not having much luck, and so we chitchat back and forth, and I say, "OK, I'll send you the pages."
I use a typewriter, and afterwards I mark up the pages with a pencil. Then I call up this woman named Carol out in Woodstock and say, "Are you still doing typing?" Sure she is, and her husband is trying to track bluebirds out there and not having much luck, and so we chitchat back and forth, and I say, "OK, I'll send you the pages."
...So I go down the steps
here, and I go out to this newsstand across the street
where they sell magazines and lottery tickets and stationery.
I have to get in line because there are people buying
candy and all that sort of thing, and I talk to them.
The woman behind the counter has a jewel between her
eyes, and when it's my turn, I ask her if there have
been any big winners lately. I get my envelope and seal
it up and go to the postal convenience center down the
block at the corner of 47th Street and 2nd Avenue, where
I'm secretly in love with the woman behind the counter.
I keep absolutely poker-faced; I never let her know
how I feel about her. One time I had my pocket picked
in there and got to meet a cop and tell him about it.
Anyway, I address the envelope to Carol in Woodstock.
I stamp the envelope and mail it in a mailbox in front
of the post office, and I go home. And I've had a hell
of a good time.
And I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you any different.
On Information
A bit from a recent blog post by Emily Gould:
“They don’t have any information I need,” someone recently told me while explaining why he wasn’t about to strike up a friendship with a group of perfectly niceish people he’d met. You get to a certain age and you become more selective about what information you need.
Her friend's sentiment bugged me, mostly because it reminds me of an attitude I recognize in myself, but have actively tried for several years not to indulge. One of the best lessons I learned in my first real reporting gig was to make an effort to engage with practically everybody I came across while going about my business, not just the "important" people-- on the way to the conference, to chat with the cab driver, for example.
It may be more comfortable to send text messages to your established circle of friends when you're "off the clock" and not expecting to have a valuable conversation-- but often the most unlikely of people can provide you with just the information you need, or at least with interesting information that will really help get you much closer to what you need.
And, how do you really know what you *need* anyway? Truly varied interactions are things that we often don't seek out-- but I think we'd all be way better off if we did more often. I'm reminded of what Moe Tkacik recently wrote in her blog post in New York Magazine of the economic crisis: "If rich white dudes had spent much time talking to anyone other than other rich white dudes, it would not have happened."
“They don’t have any information I need,” someone recently told me while explaining why he wasn’t about to strike up a friendship with a group of perfectly niceish people he’d met. You get to a certain age and you become more selective about what information you need.
Her friend's sentiment bugged me, mostly because it reminds me of an attitude I recognize in myself, but have actively tried for several years not to indulge. One of the best lessons I learned in my first real reporting gig was to make an effort to engage with practically everybody I came across while going about my business, not just the "important" people-- on the way to the conference, to chat with the cab driver, for example.
It may be more comfortable to send text messages to your established circle of friends when you're "off the clock" and not expecting to have a valuable conversation-- but often the most unlikely of people can provide you with just the information you need, or at least with interesting information that will really help get you much closer to what you need.
And, how do you really know what you *need* anyway? Truly varied interactions are things that we often don't seek out-- but I think we'd all be way better off if we did more often. I'm reminded of what Moe Tkacik recently wrote in her blog post in New York Magazine of the economic crisis: "If rich white dudes had spent much time talking to anyone other than other rich white dudes, it would not have happened."
To my Twenties
At a dinner party last night, I was having a great conversation over some wine with the hostess' sister, when it came up incidentally that she's-- ahem-- a good five years younger than I. It was a weird moment, because she was so lovely, bright, and mature-- it was one of the first times (of many more to inevitably come) where it really hit home that I can no longer expect to be the baby in every "grown-up" situation.
This is, I know, I know, ridiculous to lament at the ripe old age of 24. But a funny feeling, nonetheless.
For perspective, tonight seemed like a good time to revisit a poem by Kenneth Koch I found a year or so ago:
How lucky that I ran into you
When everything was possible
For my legs and arms, and with hope in my heart
And so happy to see any woman(
O woman! O my twentieth year!
Basking in you, you
Oasis from both growing and decay
Fantastic unheard of nine- or ten-year oasis
A palm tree, hey! And then another
And another (and water!
I'm still very impressed by you. Whither,
Midst falling decades, have you gone? Oh in what lucky fellow,
Unsure of himself, upset, and unemployable
For the moment in any case, do you live now?
From my window I drop a nickel
By mistake. With
You I race down to get it
But I find there on
The street instead, a good friend,
X---- N------, who says to me
Kenneth do you have a minute?
And I say yes! I am in my twenties!
I have plenty of time! In you I marry,
In you I first go to France; I make my best friends
In you, and a few enemies. I
Write a lot and am living all the time
And thinking about living. I loved to frequent you
After my teens and before my thirties.
You three together in a bar
I always preferred you because you were midmost
Most lustrous apparently strongest
Although now that I look back on you
What part have you played?
You never, ever, were stingy.
What you gave me you gave whole
But as for telling
Me how best to use it
You weren't a genius at that.
Twenties, my soul
Is yours for the asking
You know that, if you ever come back.
This is, I know, I know, ridiculous to lament at the ripe old age of 24. But a funny feeling, nonetheless.
For perspective, tonight seemed like a good time to revisit a poem by Kenneth Koch I found a year or so ago:
To My Twenties
How lucky that I ran into you
When everything was possible
For my legs and arms, and with hope in my heart
And so happy to see any woman(
O woman! O my twentieth year!
Basking in you, you
Oasis from both growing and decay
Fantastic unheard of nine- or ten-year oasis
A palm tree, hey! And then another
And another (and water!
I'm still very impressed by you. Whither,
Midst falling decades, have you gone? Oh in what lucky fellow,
Unsure of himself, upset, and unemployable
For the moment in any case, do you live now?
From my window I drop a nickel
By mistake. With
You I race down to get it
But I find there on
The street instead, a good friend,
X---- N------, who says to me
Kenneth do you have a minute?
And I say yes! I am in my twenties!
I have plenty of time! In you I marry,
In you I first go to France; I make my best friends
In you, and a few enemies. I
Write a lot and am living all the time
And thinking about living. I loved to frequent you
After my teens and before my thirties.
You three together in a bar
I always preferred you because you were midmost
Most lustrous apparently strongest
Although now that I look back on you
What part have you played?
You never, ever, were stingy.
What you gave me you gave whole
But as for telling
Me how best to use it
You weren't a genius at that.
Twenties, my soul
Is yours for the asking
You know that, if you ever come back.
Cherish the [Pandora] joy
A couple years ago I signed up for an account with Pandora Radio-- "the personalized internet radio service that helps you find new music based on your old and current favorites." The concept sounds great-- type in the name of a song or artist that you like, and discover new songs and artists that might also appeal to your tastes.
My Pandora subscription has gone largely unused, though-- the truth is, I just am not as keen to the process of "discovering" new music as I was back in the halcyon days of high school and college, when I'd rummage through BitTorrent for hours finding new stuff.
But! I fell in love with Pandora in earnest for the first time Sunday night, when it dawned on me that there is a place for its technology in my musically unadventurous life. In a moment of clarity, I totally hit the jackpot when I formed a station based on Madonna's 1989 hit Cherish.
Just to jostle your memory: Screenshot from Madonna's Cherish video, shot by Herb Ritts
I mean, I kind of feel like I'm gaming the system by not using Pandora to find cool new fledgling artists and albums-- the Cherish station is 100% old songs that I know every word to but would never think to download. Am I the last person to the Pandora party to use it like this?
Well, seriously: If you haven't already, make your own station based on Cherish and try to tell me it's not the most fantastic thing to happen to your guilty pleasure cortex since Beyonce's Single Ladies video debuted last month.
My Pandora subscription has gone largely unused, though-- the truth is, I just am not as keen to the process of "discovering" new music as I was back in the halcyon days of high school and college, when I'd rummage through BitTorrent for hours finding new stuff.
But! I fell in love with Pandora in earnest for the first time Sunday night, when it dawned on me that there is a place for its technology in my musically unadventurous life. In a moment of clarity, I totally hit the jackpot when I formed a station based on Madonna's 1989 hit Cherish.
Just to jostle your memory: Screenshot from Madonna's Cherish video, shot by Herb Ritts
I mean, I kind of feel like I'm gaming the system by not using Pandora to find cool new fledgling artists and albums-- the Cherish station is 100% old songs that I know every word to but would never think to download. Am I the last person to the Pandora party to use it like this?
Well, seriously: If you haven't already, make your own station based on Cherish and try to tell me it's not the most fantastic thing to happen to your guilty pleasure cortex since Beyonce's Single Ladies video debuted last month.
