I like being alone together.

Fun with apples and oranges and misleading headlines

Your iPhone uses more energy than a refrigerator

cf.

How much does it cost to charge an iPhone 5? A thought-provokingly modest $0.41/year

The former articles decides, for some reason, to say that the iPhone uses that much energy, when the research it quotes actually says it’s the infrastructure powering datacenters.

[C]harging up a single tablet or smart phone requires a negligible amount of electricity…

Me.

“If the losses of private companies are to be socialized within already struggling communities the very least we can do is listen to people when they try to tell us where in the hierarchy of their needs things like public space, access to culture, and preservation of environment lie.”

—   Zadie Smith

The North West London Blues by Zadie Smith

I work in libraries and I love my job! Mostly. I feel on the defensive — a lot — because I’m worried faculty don’t respect the work and that administrators view my job as worthless. I love the library and I love the overarching mission but I sometimes struggle with using my words to defend it. But Zadie Smith doesn’t:

And the thing that is most boring about defending libraries is the imputation that an argument in defense of libraries is necessarily a social-liberal argument. It’s only recently that I had any idea that how a person felt about libraries—not schools or hospitals, libraries—could even represent an ideological split.

I sat back in my chair after reading this, in the same way some kind of cheesy movie character would, arms crossed behind my head. She gets better:

At the extreme pole of this view is the technocrat’s total faith: with every book in the world online, what need could there be for the physical reality? This kind of argument thinks of the library as a function rather than a plurality of individual spaces. But each library is a different kind of problem and “the Internet” is no more a solution for all of them than it is their universal death knell.

That’s a stunning way to put it. I’m a certain kind of person on the internet (a straight, white, young…ish, male with privilege coming out of his ass), so it’s sort of en vogue for me to rail against technology sometimes. But I do love what technology can do for me. I do love imagining that everyone has access to digital books for minimal cost, via Amazon, or whoever, and to billions of websites via Google, or whoever, and what’s a library for then, if not as a place for universal access to information? I worry about what a library becomes if that scenario comes true, but perhaps I shouldn’t.

When I worry about libraries, I worry in the abstract. But in the realest sense, my library serves a need for my students. Some need help, some need an enormous amount of help, and many don’t — but they come in anyway, maybe saying hello as they pass my desk, or asking for a tissue in newly-learned English, or saying nothing at all. To those, I’m merely decoration, some guy at a desk in a place they’ve come to rely on in some capacity. My library is different from your library, and that’s sort of a beautiful thing:

All libraries have a different character and setting. Some are primarily for children or primarily for students, or the general public, primarily full of books or microfilms or digitized material or with a café in the basement or a market out front. Libraries are not failing “because they are libraries.” Neglected libraries get neglected, and this cycle, in time, provides the excuse to close them. Well-run libraries are filled with people because what a good library offers cannot be easily found elsewhere: an indoor public space in which you do not have to buy anything in order to stay.

Please read the article. It’s rather wonderful.

(via Christine Friar)

bobbyfinger:

Never forget that time my friends and I Skyped into The Hills After Show.

Love the shawl.
Too bad we didn’t get to ask our real question. WHAT A SHAM

bobbyfinger:

Never forget that time my friends and I Skyped into The Hills After Show.

Love the shawl.

Too bad we didn’t get to ask our real question. WHAT A SHAM

not much, you?


“It’s maybe strange to say [this], but I miss the limitations of making games in those days,” Kitase acknowledges. “The cartridge capacity was so much smaller, of course, and therefore the challenges were that much greater. But nowadays you can do almost anything in a game. It’s a paradox, but this can be more creatively limiting than having hard technical limitations to work within.”

The Making of Final Fantasy VI

“It’s maybe strange to say [this], but I miss the limitations of making games in those days,” Kitase acknowledges. “The cartridge capacity was so much smaller, of course, and therefore the challenges were that much greater. But nowadays you can do almost anything in a game. It’s a paradox, but this can be more creatively limiting than having hard technical limitations to work within.”

The Making of Final Fantasy VI

I loved The Simpsons as a kid. I love that much of my pop culture knowledge, such as it is, came from seeing it on The Simpsons first. Scenes like the above, or hearing dueling banjos, or when Mr. Burns becomes Howard Hughes. My first thought is “Spruce Moose” and not “Spruce Goose.”
My love for The Simpsons waned over time, as things do, and as I look at this picture, I can’t help but wonder if my current disillusion with shows that use referential humor is that I get it. I get it! I know the reference you’re making, Futurama, to some pop science schtick. I know the cultural milestone you’re talking about, Family Guy. I get it. And when I was younger, I didn’t. It was funny because it was weird, and then, with the benefit of hindsight, I could remember it and think, “Oh! That was a reference to something major! Or minor!”
I wonder, now, how funny a scene like this would be to me. Maybe it was never funny, but just something I could look back on fondly, as a tether to a time when most things were wonderful.

I loved The Simpsons as a kid. I love that much of my pop culture knowledge, such as it is, came from seeing it on The Simpsons first. Scenes like the above, or hearing dueling banjos, or when Mr. Burns becomes Howard Hughes. My first thought is “Spruce Moose” and not “Spruce Goose.”

My love for The Simpsons waned over time, as things do, and as I look at this picture, I can’t help but wonder if my current disillusion with shows that use referential humor is that I get it. I get it! I know the reference you’re making, Futurama, to some pop science schtick. I know the cultural milestone you’re talking about, Family Guy. I get it. And when I was younger, I didn’t. It was funny because it was weird, and then, with the benefit of hindsight, I could remember it and think, “Oh! That was a reference to something major! Or minor!”

I wonder, now, how funny a scene like this would be to me. Maybe it was never funny, but just something I could look back on fondly, as a tether to a time when most things were wonderful.

A Life-or-Death Situation

“The most important thing is to not speak for someone else,” Peggy insisted.

The books were probably garbage anyway.
Me.

Me.

Heat Wave Doesn’t Bother Local Contrarian

what with this here activity graph I have no need for klout to make me feel bad about myself.

In Which These Are The 100 Greatest Writers Of All Time

iliketodrawexplosions:

mindyourpsandqs:

nevver:

100. Joseph Conrad
99. Honoré de Balzac
98. Czeslaw Milosz
97. George Bernard Shaw
96. Wallace Stevens
95. Rumi
94. W.G. Sebald
93. Robert Hayden
92. Henry Miller
91. Robert Heinlein
90. Lorine Niedecker
89. George Eliot
88. David Mamet
87. Derek Walcott
86. Isak Dinesen
85. Maryse Conde
84. Joyce Cary
83. Frank O’Hara
82. Gabriel Garcia Marquez
81. Ernest Hemingway
80. Carson McCullers
79. Flann O’Brien
78. Julio Cortazar
77. Saul Bellow
76. Jonathan Swift
75. Ezra Pound
74. Philip K. Dick
73. Percy Shelley
72. James Agee
71. Stanley Elkin
70. Walter Benjamin
69. Harold Pinter
68. John Berryman
67. James Baldwin
66. Tu Fu
65. Jorge Luis Borges
64. Malcolm Lowry
63. Willa Cather
62. Edgar Allan Poe
61. Henrik Ibsen
60. W.H. Auden
59. Thomas Pynchon
58. Emily Brontë/Charlotte Brontë
57. Flannery O’Connor
56. Leo Tolstoy
55. Tennessee Williams
54. Nathaniel Hawthorne
53. T.S. Eliot
52. Sophocles
51. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

50. Toni Morrison
49. Charles Olson
48. John Steinbeck
47. Eugene O’Neill
46. Gustave Flaubert
45. Ivan Turgenev
44. Charles Baudelaire
43. Robert Lowell
42. Mark Twain
41. Robert Creeley
40. Iris Murdoch
39. Arthur Rimbaud
38. Mary Shelley
37. Virgil
36. Emily Dickinson
35. Walt Whitman
34. D.H. Lawrence
33. William Carlos Williams
32. Samuel Coleridge
31. Henry James
30. John Keats
29. William Wordsworth
28. Ovid
27. William Blake
26. Dr. Johnson
25. Lord Byron
24. George Orwell
23. Stendhal
22. Euripides
21. Miguel Cervantes
20. Laurence Sterne
19. Herman Melville
18. William Butler Yeats
17. Homer
16. Charles Dickens
15. John Ashbery
14. Virginia Woolf
13. Geoffrey Chaucer
12. Dante
11. Fyodor Doestoyevsky
10. Marcel Proust
9. Anton Chekhov
8. Vladimir Nabokov
7. Samuel Beckett
6. John Milton
5. Gertrude Stein
4. James Joyce
3. William Shakespeare
2. Franz Kafka
1. William Faulkner

More

Women must be really shitty writers.

(also minorities, but that’s almost a given with these lists).

I like how they crammed the Brontes into one, like, oh, they’re sisters, we can totally count them as the same person.

Yeah, but, like, this list is 100 best writers, not 100 best female writers.

(just in case — I am kidding and referencing the wikipedia controversy.)

Repairing the Damage, Before Roe