Watch! As I thoughtfully nod while the brilliant Susan Crawford exposes the secret, exploitive landscape of paid Internet access in the US.
Marvel! At the pink tie I somehow chose to wear for the interview.
Revel! in the well manicured state of my beard.
Behind the scenes info: Susan and I were both musicians while undergraduates at Yale. She was a violinist for the Yale Symphony Orchestra and I sang with The Whiffenpoofs. So together, we could perform beautiful music about the woeful state of America’s under-regulated media business.
We have public radio and public television, and together they make up the nation’s most trusted news source. But more people get their news online than just about anywhere else, so why don’t we have a public search engine?
For more, see the piece by (ahem) yours truly in this week’s edition of The Nation. (for subscribers only at the moment)
While looking up the exact meaning of purport, my eye happened upon this word:
pussytoes \‘pus-e-,toz\ or pussy’s-toes\ n pl but sing or pl in constr : any of a genus (Antennaria) of wooly or hoary composite herbs that are natives mostly of temperate regions and have small whitish discoid flower heads and a pappus formed of club-shaped bristles.
That is my Webster’s dictionary’s way of saying that there are these cute little flowers that look like cat’s paws. A google image search (kids, be sure your browser settings are tuned to “safe” if you want to try this at home) reveals just how cute they are:
A life without the chance discovery of pussytoes, ladies and gentlemen, is what we can look forward to in a paperless world.
Did you know I am the son of a magician? Here she is at work.
Imagine a pair of villages set in the midst of a beautiful green valley. Living in the houses are magicians who, for just one day of the year, welcome everybody to come into the private, secret places where they work their spells. Now imagine that you could get there by boarding a train and traveling just fifty miles north of New York City.
What you’ve just imagined is real and it’s called the Cold Spring Arts Open Studios. It’s this Saturday (info: http://www.coldspringarts.com/). One of the artists happens to be my very talented mother, Galelyn Williams, who can be seen early on in the video below. She works all kinds of magic, but her special talent is revealing the souls of lost objects and old, old photographs. This weekend, her door is be open and the magic is waiting.
Watch the video for a sneak peek: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWR4d0LxLqA
That’s from a post at The Bloggess, quoted by Will Wheaton: “Depression Lies.” Both posts are short and worth a read.
In a nutshell: mental illness in the form of anxiety and depression is more widespread than you think, and suicide is on more people’s mind than you know, possibly somebody close to you. And both suicide and depression are avoidable. The first step is to pay loving attention to yourself and the people around you.
There is a reason that the devil has always been ascribed two qualities: seductiveness and untruthfulness. Depression and anxiety as they assail the mind are devils with exactly those qualities. What they say to you seems real, but is in fact a lie designed to hurt you.
So for today, for ourselves and those we love, let’s remember that we are safe; we are worthy; life is beautiful; and that our best days are ahead of us. Take a breath and let yourself be reminded.
In 1996, in the movie theater, just at the moment the White House gets blown up, my mother yelled “It’s the Republicans!” A proud family memory.
Also, image (c) 20th Century Fox
By taking the train uptown to meet Eleanor Lavish and a selection of her fabulous fan girls to watch some good-bad TV and movies, order take-out, and watch New York’s amazing fireworks show in air-conditioned comfort. There will also no doubt be some discussion of feminism, social justice, and cute boys playing superheroes. You know, like you do.
Father Time. From a headstone in a church yard in Leicester, England.
As of this moment, it is midday on the 183rd day of the year, and that means that we are officially closer to 2014 than we are to 2012. Half of 2013 has somehow slipped by.
The cold nights of January might seem impossibly far away, but I’ll bet you thought that we still had, like, 2/3 of the year to go, right? Nope. Less than half! By the time you finish reading this, even less. If all that stuff you planned to do in 2013 isn’t already half finished, get a move on!
The poet Baudelaire used to keep a clock wound and ticking even though it had no hands. On the face it just said, “It’s later than you think.”