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June 30, 2003

how we pay for music

A few days ago I was poking around in the message board hosted on musician Jay Farrar's website, and I came across a reference to Jim Boquist, bassist for Farrar's on-hiatus band Son Volt, working as a guitar tech for Paul Westerberg. Being a guitar tech is not a bad job, I suppose -- sort of a senior roadie. But I thought, "Man, that kind of sucks. Going from being a working musician in an active band with a major label record deal to being someone else's guitar tech?"

That got me thinking about how musicians make a living, and how contemporary technology proposals designed to keep consumers from illegally sharing digital music might, in the end, be used positively to alter the way we pay for music and the way musicians earn a living.

Before there was technology to record performances, musicans made money by performing. Every time a song was played, some money would potentially make its way into the pockets of the musician who played it. But once it became possible to record music, then earnings became a function of how many copies of that recording were sold. This was not a function of how often the music was played, mind you, but how many physical objects containing the recording were purchased. Nowadays, a typical CD costs about $15 or less if you buy it at an independent music store, usually much more at chains. A ridiculously small portion of that price actually gets into the musician's pocket. And after the initial popularity -- measured in sales -- of an individual CD, the musician's income declines, for the most part, even if there is a loyal following of listeners. (Of course, there is still income to be had from back catalogue sales, radio play, and other venues.)

Jumping to my point: what if we paid much less for CDs (say $2), but then paid a small fee every time we listened to a song (say 1 cent)? I listen to Son Volt's Trace and Wide Swing Tremolo all the time. By contrast, I've listened to Emmylou Harris's Red Dirt Girl, to cite one example, less than five times (good songs, bad production). But I paid the same amount for each CD. Wouldn't a payment system that rewards repeated listening be more just than our current one?

Scenario one: you're a superstar who sells a million copies of a well-promoted mediocre CD, but your audience gets tired of listening to it after ten listens or so and puts it on the shelf, where it sits neglected. Scenario two: you're a musican on an independent label who sells only 50,000 copies of a brilliant CD, but your relatively small audience loves your work and listens to your CD two hundred times. In both scenarios, the CD is listened to about ten million times, but because the "revenue stream" (ugly term, but apt) is based on sales, not listening, the musican in the second scenario earns significantly less money than the musican in the first.

Wouldn't it make more sense for each to earn about the same amount of money from their music? I'm not sure that consumers would see that much of a difference in their expenditures because for every CD that they listen to constantly, they are likely to have at least one CD that they listen to only a few times. However, it would completely change the amount of money making its way to musicians.

If I paid $2 for a CD with ten songs, and then listened to it 100 times, paying 10 cents each time, then I would pay $12 total for the CD and the listening. Hmm, not bad. I don't claim to have a plan for the technology or music-industry restructuring that would enable this plan, mind you; I'm just thinking out loud.

edith frost's blog

I'll take a quick break from writing wrestling with my paper on "John Wesley's Magazine Publishing Career: 1778-1791" for the SHARP conference next week to mention the blog of Edith Frost, Drag City recording artist and, apparently, righteous computer whiz. Who knew? I'm listening to Telescopic right now.

She writes her blog entries in an appealingly personal, folksy style, but she's also integrated some pretty sophisticated functions (from my semi-technically skilled p.o.v) into her main page. In an entry from yesterday she lays out her DIY blogging ethos:

I like to keep my own website the way I like it. I want to run it, organize it, control the layout and structure, and all that good stuff. I don't like the idea of somebody else hosting my site and controlling the way it's presented.

I seldom hear music I want to hear on the radio. My ideal radio station would play Edith Frost, no doubt.

June 29, 2003

new layout

So I have a new layout. I'll provide some design notes once I'm completely finished, including credit to the folks whose blog designs influenced me. But for now ... any comments? Suggestions?

sidebar blog

From Mark Pasc: How to make a quick links weblog in Movable Type. Hmm. More trouble than it's worth or the greatest thing since sliced bread?

frank lloyd wright in baghdad

I'm hoping to figure out a way to put a sidebar blog within this blog so that I can post links to (and brief summaries of) news stories every once in a while. Until that happens, however, I'll put them here. I'm not sure I agree with what Deeb and Marefat, two Middle Eastern specialists at the Library of Congress quoted in the article, say but it's an interesting note from history, if nothing else:

Ken Ringle, "The Genie in an Architect's Lamp: Frank Lloyd Wright's '57 Plan for Baghdad May Be Key to Its Future" (Washington Post).

June 26, 2003

using php to make php

How many people will think, based on the title, that this entry is about some kind of illegal lab? Nope, it's about programming with php.

After a long day of tedious html form building for data that will be entered into a database using some php scripts, I thought, while trying to fall asleep, "There's got to be a better way. I'm creating the same kinds of forms over and over, surely there's a way to automate this. I bet I could build a set of pages that would be based on php, but would actually create forms after asking you for some basic info. Yeah, that would be cool. It's not php, it's meta-php! I should blog about this...zzzzz."

The next day, Jeff wisely said, "Why don't you just look on Sourceforge and see if anyone has already created something like that?"

And voila! phpCodeGenie

I haven't actually gotten it to work, yet, but I'm close. Does anyone know of similar tools that

  1. are free
  2. actually work out of the box without too much tweaking?

June 24, 2003

conversation, gender, power

Reading a couple of posts from Liz Lawley on gender and communication -- the second of which points to an essay by Dan Spalding aimed at "other men in the movement" and designed to help men "act better in meetings" by learning the value of silence -- has me thinking about whether or not my as yet embryonic typology of the kinds of "moves" people make in conversations might be useful in thinking about gender. Conversely, perhaps thinking about gender will be useful in reworking my typology.

For example, Liz writes:

I spend a lot of time watching the conversations that are taking place these days in weblogging, social software, and other technology contexts. Yes, there are a few women involved in the conferences and meetings. But their voices aren’t the ones we usually hear about from the men. To be heard—to really be heard—a woman has to break the rules. She has to be outrageous.

I had written that the move of affirmation (e.g. I agree.) wasn't a significant contribution to a conversation, but clearly this is too simplistic. The value of that move will depend on context. If you are participating in a conversation and feel that no one is really listening to you, when someone says Yes, I agree. Good point. then something significant has taken place, and your participation is validated to some extent, depending on who has done the affirming.

I think that participants in a conversation that contains several "moves" of acknowledgment, affirmation, bridging, and synthesis will feel more comfortable than they would in one that is characterized more by disagreement, challenge, diversion, or digression. Would we want to say that men (or at least unselfconsciously masculine men) are more likely to engage in the latter than the former? As if every conversation was a contest to be won? This would certainly be true if those kinds of moves are considered more "valuable" in a conversation than others, and if we assume that men are socialized (I'm anti-essentialist) to acquire more of what's valuable than the other "players" in the conversation. I might want to rethink my model of conversation as game where individuals earn points for their contributions. What kind of model would reward more collaborative or generous behavior?

Obviously, one way to affirm or acknowledge what someone has said is to cite them in your blog, conference paper, or journal article. This is what Liz means when she says that women's "voices aren’t the ones we usually hear about from the men." Hmm. Even disagreeing with someone in such a context is a means of affirming or acknowledging them, though, isn't it? These moves are more complicated than they appear at first blush.

More thinking to be done...

conversation as game

There's an Ask Slashdot discussion taking place in response to a question regarding computer classrooms and freshman composition. It's the usual Slashdot mix of helpful and not so helpful comments. Many of the responses address the use of blogs in teaching.

I won't be in front of a freshman composition class any time soon, but I have been thinking about blogs and teaching. Last week, Jill Walker posted an entry on Alex Halevais's "grading system based on ... karma," a system which didn't quite work because students learned how to cheat. I've also been thinking about games -- thanks to Jason's recent post in the midst of a larger conversation he TrackBacked himself into -- in relation to the kinds of conversations that take place in an academic environment, either online or off. I took a shot at having my students play Ivanhoe this year, an online literary roleplaying game (at least that's how I describe it), but it didn't go so well. I'll try it again, I think, but I need to re-tool my directions and how the game is framed within the rest of the course. I welcome advice from anyone who has experience with the game.

However, the experience did inspire me to think that participation in a conversation can be conceived of as a series of different "moves," to use a game term, that these moves can be named and classified, and that value might be awarded to each move, allowing participants to score "points" leading toward some sort of goal. How to avoid the potential for cheating? Maybe make the goal unrelated to the grade, count on the motivation provided by a desire to do well in a competition, to enhance one's reputations with one's peers. The grade is about my reaction; the competition is about peer reaction. Hmmm. How to put this in action with a blog?

Of course, one could just go with a karma system like that on Slashdot and Plastic (from the Slashdot faq, see this entry on moderation and this one on karma). But I'd like to enact something a little more nuanced. Plus I'm just stubborn. And I've been known to re-invent the wheel.

Why am I doing this? To give students (and myself) a clearer framework for understanding how they can participate and are participating in a class discussion. Are you relying too much on one kind of move? Try to expand your playing style. Why do your comments not spark the kind of discussion you want them to? Maybe you're relying too much on affirmation, acknowledgment, or digression.

I talked about this with L last night, and we came up with a number of ideas. So here is an initial attempt to provide descriptions and definitions of the different "moves" people might make in a conversation. I'd appreciate feedback. Are you aware of a line of scholarship on this subject? Do any of these need to be revised? Does this kind of categorization work? How would one go about assigning "point" value to these moves?

Categories of moves in the game of conversation, with examples:

  • Prompt: A statement designed to spark conversation without necessarily taking a stand or arguing for a position. It is not required for a conversation to begin.
    What do you think about this whole weapons-of-mass-destruction thing?
    It could be more directed than this, however.
    Do you think the failure of the US to find weapons of mass destruction in post-war Iraq will hurt Bush's chances for re-election in 2004?
    A prompt doesn't have to be a question.
    Let's talk about weapons of mass destruction.
  • Initiation: Similar to a prompt, but with a bit more substance, and more likely to take a stand. Ideally supported with an argument of some kind, however brief.
    This won't hurt Bush at all. The issue of weapons of mass destruction will not be significant in the 2004 election because recent polls show that most Americans either don't care that we haven't found any WMDs or they mistakenly think that we've already found them.
  • Request for clarification: Something is unclear, and this move seeks to clarify. It could be a request to have someone's position re-stated.
    Are you saying that it doesn't matter if we find the weapons or not?
    Or it could be a request for further information from an obviously knowledgable person.
    What polls are you talking about? What exactly were the results? Where can I read them?
  • Clarification: Someone, perhaps but not necessarily the original speaker, answers the request for clarification.
    No, I'm not saying that I think it doesn't matter, but I think most other people think it doesn't matter.i>
    There was a story about it in yesterday's paper.
  • Extension: A statement that agrees with the position taken in the initiation, and offers additional support for that position. Note that this is a more substantial move than the acknowledgment or affirmation described below.
    I also think this issue won't hurt Bush. Polls indicate that people are more focused on the issue of the quality of life for the Iraqis now that Saddam Hussein is out of power. And I believe that is how the Bush campaign will characterize the war: not that it was about protecting us from harm, but that it was about liberating Iraq.
  • Disagreement: A statement that does not agree with the position taken in the initiation, and offers an argument in support of an alternate position. Perhaps a different name for this move is needed: it's important here to try to avoid a binary characterization of conversations. There are many possible positions.
    This is going to be the most important issue of the 2004 elections. Once the post-war glow wears off in America, the Democrats are going to have a field day with the issue of Bush and honesty. Look at what's happening in England with Tony Blair. After the Republicans made such a big deal of Clinton's honesty, you can bet the Democrats are eager for payback.
  • Challenge: Similar to a prompt, in that it doesn't take an explicit stand itself, the challenge is directed at a player who has already made a move. Can be played like a request for clarification but it's different in that it does not ask for a restatement of the original move. Could be played like a disagreement, but it does not take an alternate position.
    Why do you think that what's going on in England is a good guide to what's going on in America?
    Don't you think that by 2004, the issue of Clinton's honesty will no longer register in most voters' minds?
  • Diversion: A move that takes the conversation in a different direction without a drastic subject change.
    With all of the attention on Iraq, we might be ignoring the very serious issue of Bush and the domestic economy. The unemployment rate is unbelievable right now. Clinton defeated Bush in '92 with a focus on the economy, and perhaps this will be the issue in 2004.
  • Digression: A comment that is irrelevant to the threads of conversation, though it may have a tangential connection. Not a significant contribution.
    Jon Stewart said something really funny about Bush on the Daily Show last night.
  • Acknowledgment or affirmation: Signals agreement or the fact that one is listening. Affirmation is not really a significant contribution, but acknowledgment can be in that it is a demonstration by one participant that the efforts of another participant are getting through.
    Me too!
    I agree.
    That's a good point, and I hadn't thought about that.
    Oh, okay. I see what you're saying.
  • Bridging: A move that takes two positions which seem to be incompatible and demonstrates the connections or similarities between them.
    While it may be true that this issue won't hurt Bush's chances for re-election, it's also true that the Democrats are going to make this a central part of their bid for the White House in 2004.
  • Synthesis: A move that occurs well into the conversation and attempts to take stock in a summary way of what's been said. Does not necessarily take a position on the issues at stake, but attempts to provide a map of where the conversation has gone.
    So some of us think that WMDs will not be a significant issue in 2004, but that the war in Iraq will be used by the Republicans as a means of showing they care about human rights. Some think instead that the failure to find WMDs will be used by the Democrats, although we seem to disagree over whether or not this issue will help them. And some of us think that the economy will be the big issue.
  • Meta-commentary: An observation regarding the nature of the conversation taking place that may or may not take part in the substance of the conversation. It may be a prompt that seeks to divert the conversation in a different direction.
    Isn't it interesting that we've framed this issue purely in political terms? Shouldn't we be thinking about the moral implications of what we've done in Iraq?

Okay, that's what I have so far. Any thoughts?

June 23, 2003

asecs, boston 2004

Well, it looks like my session proposal was accepted for next year's meeting of ASECS (American Society for Eighteenth-Century Studies). Now I just need to toss out the hook of the CFP and hope that I get some bites.

Print Culture and Religion

How did the expansion of print culture in the eighteenth century affect religious beliefs, practices, and institutions? Conversely, how did religion affect the expansion of print culture? This session seeks 20-minute papers on the production, distribution, and reception of print in the eighteenth-century with an emphasis on religious materials, or responses to print framed in religious terms. Possible materials of interest might include but are not limited to sacred writings, hymnbooks, sermons, spiritual autobiographies, prayer books, moral tracts, or religious periodicals. I welcome papers from those working in a variety of languages and in a variety of national or religious traditions.

June 20, 2003

text editing tool

Jeff turned me on to jEdit, "a cross platform, programmer's text editor written in Java" that, with the XML plugin, is a nifty way to tag XHTML or TEI-conformant XML. It enforces the DTD as you go, just like XMetal. Unlike XMetal, jEdit is free.

I'll go into more detail about setting it up if anyone's interested.

Update, June 23: Okay, first make sure you have the right Java runtime environment on your computer. Then, you download the appropriate version of jEdit from the website. Since I reluctantly run Windows, I downloaded the Java-based installer for that system, but you should be able to follow the directions on the website for any OS.

Once you have the program installed, you'll want to add the XML plugin. To do so, make sure you're online, then go to the jEdit "Plugins" menu, select "Plugin Manager," and then click the "Install Plugins" button. You'll be presented with a list of available plugins; just scroll down until you find the XML plugin, check the box, and click the "Install" button. Close the "Plugin Manager" screen. You will probably get a message telling you to restart jEdit in order for the new plugin to work.

In order to make the menus for tags, entities, and IDs visible on the right side of the screen, go to the "Utilities" menu and select "Global Options." Select "Docking" from the menu on the left. Over on the right, scroll down till you see "XML Insert"; change the drop-down menu to read "right." Close the "Global Options" window.

You should now see a box in the upper right-hand corner that reads, vertically, "XML Insert." You can click on this box to make the tagging interface appear or disappear. Once the interface is visible, you can click on an element to get a pop-up window that provides you with a menu of appropriate attributes for that element. If you don't want to see that window, however, you can just right-click the element and it will be inserted (both opening and closing tags) in the document wherever you have placed the cursor. If you have highlighted some text, then the opening tag will be placed before the text and the closing tag will be placed after it. If you type an opening tag, jEdit keeps track of that opening and will automaticallly insert an appropriate, complete closing tag when you begin to type it.

As I said above, the editor enforces the DTD as you go. The menu of elements will only display those elements that are allowed by the DTD at the point in your document where you have placed your cursor. I've played around with (X)HTML documents because it appears that the DTD is included with the XML plugin, but I haven't tried downloading the TEI (or TEI-lite) and getting jEdit to enforce that DTD. I don't see why it wouldn't work just as well, however, and Jeff seems to be very happy with using it for this purpose.

There you have it. Any questions?

kc's african-american literary tradition...

...to be discussed at free New Letters symposium.

New Letters magazine and the American Jazz Museum will co-sponsor a panel discussion on past Kansas City African-American writers, at the Jazz Museum, 18th and Vine Streets, at 7 p.m., Saturday, June 28, 2003. The panel discussion will be moderated by Kansas City Star writer and literary critic Steve Paul. It will feature Rep. Lloyd Daniel, Missouri state representative and poet, and others, including Chip Fleischer, publisher of Vermont’s Steerforth Press, which recently published the novel Such Sweet Thunder, by the late Kansas City writer Vincent O. Carter.

Carter died in 1983, and his Kansas City novel went undiscovered until recently. “Such Sweet Thunder is a jazz song of a book, a river of sound,” Chip Fleischer has written, “replete with references to the influential musicians of the Kansas City music scene of Carter’s youth” The panel discussion will focus on the Carter novel, and also discuss the larger context of past Kansas City African-American poets and writers.

The event is free and open to the public. For more information, call the American Jazz Museum at 816-474-8463 or New Letters magazine at the University of Missouri-Kansas City, 816-235-1168.

New Letters quarterly is published by the University of Missouri-Kansas City and distributed world wide; it is available by subscription for $17 per year (four issues). Call (816) 235-1168 or email newletters@umkc.edu to order.

June 19, 2003

happy juneteenth

The oven is back on at Heck's Kitchen, and Jenny reminds us that today is Juneteenth. Yes it is.

On June 19 ("Juneteenth"), 1865, Union general Gordon Granger read the Emancipation Proclamation in Galveston, thus belatedly bringing about the freeing of 250,000 slaves in Texas. The tidings of freedom reached slaves gradually as individual plantation owners read the proclamation to their bondsmen over the months following the end of the war.
Q: But wait. Didn't Abraham Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation free the slaves on January 1, 1863?
A: Yes, that's right.
Q: Then why did it take more than two years for this information to reach Texas?
A: Because white people suck.
Q: Isn't that a little harsh?
A: See above.

Juneteenth is also the name of Ralph Ellison's posthumously published second novel. His first novel being, of course, the brilliant Invisible Man.

June 18, 2003

ian watt outmoded?

Digging around in the online archives of the C18-L discussion list, I found this interesting thread on Ian Watt's 1957 book, The Rise of the Novel: Studies in Defoe, Richardson, and Fielding. Still highly influential more than 45 years after its original publication -- though not without its flaws, as the C18-L discussion makes clear -- Watt's book argued in part for the importance of considering the contextual circumstances (economic, philosophical, literary historical) of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries when trying to understand the appearance and development of this new genre of writing. This book is all the more remarkable given that in 1957, most literary scholars were taking a New Critical approach that assumed the ahistorical formal autonomy of a text.

Clearly an emphasis on Defoe, Richardson, and Fielding obscures a great deal about the early history of the novel, but I'm still enjoying (re)reading this book. I particularly like these lines from the first page of the first chapter:

...Defoe, Richardson and Fielding do not in the usual sense constitute a literary school. Indeed their works show so little sign of mutual influence and are so different in nature that at first sight it appears that our curiosity about the rise of the novel is unlikely to find any satisfaction other than the meagre one afforded by the terms 'genius' and 'accident,' the twin faces on the Janus of the dead ends of literary history. We cannot, of course, do without them: on the other hand there is not much we can do with them. The present inquiry therefore takes another direction: assuming that the appearance of our first three novelists within a single generation was probably not sheer accident, and that their geniuses could not have created the new form unless the conditions of the time had also been favourable, it attempts to discover what these favourable conditions in the literary and social situation were, and in what ways Defoe, Richardson and Fielding were its beneficiaries.

"...the twin faces on the Janus of the dead ends of literary history." Ah, I gotta write that one down.

Update: Some articles to store in my external memory cache.

  • Special issue of Eighteenth-Century Fiction (Winter 2000): "Reconsidering The Rise of the Novel".
  • Richetti, John. "The Legacy of Ian Watt's The Rise of the Novel." In The Profession of Eighteenth-Century Literature: Reflections on an Institution. Ed. Leo Damrosch. Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1992. 95-112.
  • Schwartz, Daniel R. "The Importance of Ian Watt's The Rise of the Novel." Journal of Narrative Technique 13 (1983).
  • Brown, Homer Obed. "Of the Title To Things Real: Conflicting Stories." ELH 55 (1988).
  • McKeon, Michael. "Generic Transformation and Social Change: Rethinking the Rise of the Novel." Cultural Critique 1 (1985): 159-181.
  • Richetti, John. "Popular Narrative in the Eighteenth Century: Formats and Formulas." In The First English Novelists. Ed. J. M. Armistead. Knoxville: U of Tennessee P, 1985.

June 16, 2003

implementing recent comments

As you can see, I've added a "recent comments" section to my blog sidebar. I can't take credit for figuring it out on my own, however. Back at the beginning of April, Liz generously posted some of her template files, and I've just used the relevant portions from her pages in my pages.

Here's how you do it, provided you're using Movable Type for your blog.

On your "Main Index" template, insert the following code in your sidebar where you want your recent comments to be displayed. Change the value for the lastn attribute of the MTComments tag to indicate how many comments you want displayed.

Then in the template for your "Individual Entry Archive," change the relevant section of code so that it looks like this:

It's just that easy.

need new music

I went by a local record store yesterday with the idea that I would buy some new music. I had three candidates in mind:

  1. Something by The Cucumbers, because I really dig that song, "Illegal," they posted for download on the Protest Records website.
  2. Something by Built to Spill, because I really dig the song Jenny posted on her site. (You have to scroll down to find it.)
  3. Double Nickels On The Dime, by the Minutemen -- who, being a defunct band, do not have their own homepage, but whose former bass player, Mike Watt, does -- because I saw a commercial for the movie Jackass and I swear they were playing a clip from a song on this album, and I thought, "Either something terrible is being done with the music of the Minutemen, or this movie is a lot more interesting than I thought."

In any case, three swings and three strikes.

So I'm soliciting suggestions for a new music purchase. Any ideas?

pbs: p.o.v. starts a new season

Airing on t.v. tomorrow night is the first installment of the new season of P.O.V., the fantastic, long-running series on PBS of what they call "independent non-fiction films." Check online to see when it's playing in your area.

weekend update(s)

In some sort of weird blogging convergence, everyone's reporting their weekend adventures. Heidi went to a picnic on Saturday and was rewarded with allergies and chigger bites. Jason saw a bear (for only the second time in 20 years, he says) on a camping trip with his dad in Virginia. After a trip to Annapolis with Matt, Kari made meatloaf. Randy's weekend featured photography, slugs (no, that's probably not right), and barbecue. Deb -- who, alas, does not have permanent links to her individual entries -- went to DC without knowing exactly where she would be staying. Liz took a jaunt to Niagara Falls. Chuck -- also without permanent links to individual entries: curse you Blogspot! -- had yummy Lebanese food and took in a movie.

Meanwhile, on Saturday, we walked down to the River Market farmer's market -- which is one of the best things about Kansas City -- had a cup of coffee while people watching, bought enough fresh produce to fill our backpack, then perused the Asian Supermarket for some wasabi, dried seaweed sheets, and a bamboo rolling mat. Later that evening, The Matrix: Reloaded -- more on this later, perhaps -- followed by a post-movie snack at Fedora's.

Then on Sunday, following this guy's instructions, I tried my hand at making sushi (not sashimi, mind you: nothing raw). It wasn't perfect, but given that this was my first attempt ever, it was surprisingly good.

So...what did you do?

June 12, 2003

the power of analogies

From Lawrence Lessig, of Stanford Law, in a q&a on downloading copyrighted music: "The RIAA is the Recording Industry Association of America. It is not the Recording Industry and Artists Association of America. It says its concern is artists. That's true, in just the sense that a cattle rancher is concerned about its cattle. "

From a reader's letter on nonsmokers' rights in today's Kansas City Star: "Requesting a nonsmoking section in a restaurant is like asking for the nonurine section in a pool."

form, content, process

Matt asks whether "the current XHTML/CSS paradigm" and the ease with which "skins" are laid on top of applications are contributing to an undoing of "the old humanistic saw about the mutually informing and inextricable nature of the relationship between form and content."

Kari then takes the discussion in an interesting direction by bringing up W. W. Greg's classic differentiation between "'accidentals[,]' those features of an author's work--spelling, punctuation, style--generally regarded as contingent rather than constuitive" and "'substantives,' or linguistic content, the real locus of authorial meaning." She writes that against this long-influential view "a younger generation of mavericks ... hold that accidentals are substantives, a variation on the old saw that the medium is the message." These "mavericks" argue that "[t]hings like font size and style, page layout, white space--all are semantically constituitive." However, now that we can switch these elements around relatively easily in an electronic environment, textual theorists might need to rethink their assumptions about form and content.

Jason takes the XHTML/CSS binary and complicates things by arguing for a three-way (woo-hoo!) relationship involving the database backend (oh.) that runs MT blogs and other forms of information: "In looking at the CSS, the HTML templates, and even the database, I see a variety of levels of 'form' and 'content' intertwining in a (seemingly) organic fashion."

All this has left me wanting to play devil's advocate. Might we restrict our view to the "document" -- whether that's a blog entry or the interface for a chat client -- as it appears on our screen? The skin, the database backend, or the stylesheet are the means by which the document was formatted, but now that it's there on screen, do these things matter so much to our analysis of the document itself? The computer -- or the printing press, for that matter -- is the device upon which the process of document creation was enacted, but once the document is created, we're back to the inextricable nature of form and content. The links on Matt's page used to be blue and underlined; now they're green and have no underlines. I would argue that these features still signify; they're still "substantives." There is no reason to read them as "accidentals" simply because their change is the result of a stylesheet edit.

June 11, 2003

show & tell

Interested in seeing where I worked for two weeks while in England?

Sure you are.

war profiteering's new face

Following closely on the heels of September 11, comic book stores across the country offered a poster for sale, the proceeds of which went to one or more of the various funds established to provide for victims of the attack. It was a WWII-era image of Superman standing in front of large red, white, and blue shield and above the slogan, "Support Our American Heros." I bought one, and in the days when "American Heros" invoked the police officers and firemen at the World Trade Center, it felt like a humanitarian gesture. Now, of course, the term takes a different valence.

The relationship of Superman to war, however, is more complicated than this poster would lead you to believe. The very first appearance of Superman has him taking the owner of an arms manufacturing company to the frontlines of some unnamed war in order to show him first-hand the horrors of combat. It's a powerful scene. Bob Dylan covers similar ground in "Masters of War". Lately, however, it occurs to me that things have gotten more complicated.

We've all read the news stories about which American companies have won the plum contracts to rebuild Iraq after the ravages of (our) war. What a nice humanitarian gesture, no? What could be more generous than to help put this country back on its feet? So what if these companies have ties to the decision makers who waged war in the first place.

Here's a suggestion for the United Nations: pass a resolution that says that any country that wages war on another country is required by international law to pay for the rebuilding, but make it illegal for any corporation from the aggressor nation to receive a contract to take part in, or profit in any way from, the rebuilding.

baltimore layover

Filling in the gaps regarding my travel home: I flew from Manchester to Atlanta, then Atlanta to Baltimore, where KB picked me up from the airport and took me to an amazing Afghani restaurant, the Helmand in the Mount Vernon neighborhood of Baltimore. All of the food was delicious, but the highlight was the appetizer, kaddo borawni, "[p]an fried and baked baby pumpkin seasoned with sugar and served on yogurt garlic sauce." As KB says, "it kicks ass." I think that's a culinary expression.

Then back to KB's to hang out a little and eat chewy chocolate chip cookies. By 10:00 pm, though, I was ready to crash and crash hard. In the morning, KB drove me back to the airport with a ration of more cookies, plus bing cherries and blueberries. (Ever notice how much I talk about food? I get that from L.) Then Baltimore to Cincinnati, and Cincinnati to KC.

And if all of that weren't enough to qualify KB for sainthood, she also gave me a tape with the second half of this year's season of Six Feet Under (she'd already taped the first half for us) along with the first episode of this season's The Wire. For fans of NBC's dearly departed Homicide, The Wire is a very satisfying fix, at least as good as its more famous HBO siblings SFU and the Sopranos.

Let me remind you that KB is walking in the Two-Day Colon Cancer March in October. If you'd like to sponsor her, email me and I'll put you in touch with her.

I'm very lucky to have KB for a friend, and not just because of the cookies and the videotaped shows. To an Army brat like me who spent the first half of my life making and losing friends every two to three years, it's been a very slow adjustment into adulthood friendships where people don't just drop out of your life when you move away. As the really good things and the really bad things come, and as you realize that your family, though they may love you, don't always know how to provide you with the support and community you need, good friends make all the difference in the world. I know this is a really simple, perhaps corny, point, but it's one that I have to learn and relearn constantly.

manchester: coda

Just a few brief things I never got around to mentioning about my trip to Manchester:

  • Walking home one night I passed an old lady who looked at me and said "Piss off!" with more than a little conviction.
  • More than once I saw a guy riding a vespa up and down Oxford road on a Vespa with about ten rear-view mirrors mounted on either side.
  • At the Waterstone's bookstore on St. Ann's square there were several copies of both novels by my friend Dave. Each had a beautiful cover, different than the American editions. The Coffee Trader was displayed somewhat prominently in the historical fiction section of the store.
  • The lamposts in the park in front of my bed and breakfast featured such political stickers as "Don't attack Iraq. No war but class war." and "No muggers or burglars. This is a working-class neighborhood. Don't steal from your own."
  • A rather large flock of pigeons was loitering in the park every morning as I walked through on my way to the library. One morning they all launched into flight just a few feet off the ground, took a slow, graceful turn towards me, and for a few seconds I was surrounded by them. It created the strange sensation of being in flight myself.

Without a blog, I'm not sure I would have noted all of these details. Lately, I find myself "blogging in my head," to quote Liz Lawley, working to file experiences away in my brain for write-up later. I like the way it seems to make me more attentive to the here-and-now, even as I cast my mind forward to what I might write about in the near future.

June 10, 2003

jet lag

Back home in KC, now. Typically, the time change in this direction is easier to adjust to than the time change going the other way. Yesterday, L and I spent some time in the little park at the City Market, watching robins tend to their nests, and then later had a great dinner on the patio at the Thai Place in Westport. I went to bed at a normal hour, all signs pointing to a successful temporal readjustment.

One thing I didn't think of, though. I woke up last night at around 2, which would have been 8 in Manchester, with a caffeine headache.

June 9, 2003

4015 days

I have been with L for 11 years today.

Woo-hoo!

willing suspension of disbelief

Sitting in the Atlanta airport on Sunday, May 25, waiting to board my flight to Manchester, I wrote the following entry, but never got around to posting it:

I have flown literally a couple of hundred thousand miles in my life. And I know how planes fly; I used to be an aerospace engineering major. The faster air travels, the more pressure it exerts. The top of a wing is curved while the bottom is straight. The air passing by the wing on the bottom goes faster than the air on top. More pressure is applied to the bottom of the wing than to the top, raising the plane into the air. Or maybe it's the other way around. Hmmm, now I'm not sure. There's a reason why I stopped being an aerospace engineering student and became an English major.
However, as I sit here in the Atlanta airport looking at the plane that is surely way too small to take me all the way across the Atlantic, I am thinking that in the end the confidence that allows all of us to get onto this multi-ton chunk of metal and extremely flammable liquid comes from a massive, willing suspension of disbelief.
Plus maybe a cocktail or two.

the view from here

Somewhere over northeastern Canada, about to fly over Quebec. Gin and tonic at 35,000 feet, 535 miles per hour with a 25mph headwind, -70 degrees Fahrenheit outside the cabin. After three failed attempts to show us movies -- Catch Me If You Can, The Recruit, and How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days, each of which plagued by what appeared to be VCR tracking problems -- Delta has decided to show us instead the flight data that has become de rigeur during airline trips. You get altitude, travelling speed, headwind, temperature. You also get a computer generated map with an icon representing the plane at the head of a red line representing your flightpath so far. An interesting example of "re-purposing" data that has certainly always been available to the pilots.

What does Delta think the appeal of this data is for the passengers? A friend once told me that he heard Benedict Anderson describe maps as an attempt to view the world from God's point of view. Is that what the monitors are showing us? Interestingly, it's not a view or a representation of the ground from the plane, but a view from well above the plane, enabling a kind of dislocation as we imagine ourselves out of body, out of cabin, somewhere in space, perhaps. From the plane, the view out the window is beautiful but somewhat generic: fluffy white clouds below with hints of the land underneath, sunny blue sky above. We could be almost anywhere, a dislocation that is only strengthened by the feeling of timelessness that comes with crossing so many time zones. By contrast, the digitally mapped representation on the monitor locates us firmly on, or above, the globe.

Composed on the plane about 11:00 a.m. EST, June 8. Posted on June 9.

June 7, 2003

fish, chips, tofu, & sunshine...

...or, a self-indulgent post without a central point.

My work here is done. For now. Return trips will be required. If I were an eighteenth-century Methodist, I would record everything I've done in obsessive detail as a form of self-discipline. Instead, I've only recorded a few things obsessively. For instance:

  • Miles walked (14 days X 4 miles a day) = 56
  • Notes taken (in words): 65,000
  • Hours in library: 76
  • Postcards bought: 2

I have found much useful material that will go a long way towards the completion of my book. I also have a very strong sense of what I want to look like on my future trips. Everyone here keeps asking me 1) when it will be published and 2) who is going to publish it. My answers? 1) Some time in the next five years or I won't get tenure, and 2) I don't know, but wouldn't Oxford University Press be nice?

One of the greatest things about being here has been talking over coffee and/or lunch with other scholars who are studying Methodism in the eighteenth-century. I don't think that I've ever been around this many at one time. Yesterday, for example, I was taken to lunch at the members-only Portico Library and had a very nice conversation over fish & chips and mushy peas. Today, more Thai food (this time a delish tofu concoction) and one last conversation with a PhD candidate from Oxford University.

It's sunny and warm today. Downtown Manchester is crowded with people out and about, mostly shopping it seems. I'm going to try to find a relatively quiet place to get something cool to drink and read. My flight leaves tomorrow morning. After a night in Baltimore, I'll be back in KC by Monday.

June 6, 2003

the future of the archive

I had some delicious Pad Thai at Tampopo last night. Again with the servers carrying wireless PDAs, but this time they were on the Palm OS. I wrote the following on my Palm while sipping my Kirin and waiting on my food.

Because of the work in which I'm currently engaged, pulling documents out of the past to try to understand them in a contemporary context, I'm thinking about the nature of archives, and what they might look like in the future.

Specifically, what will be the future of archival literary research? Will libraries like the one in which I'm working continue to maintain archives? What will the document/artifact trail left behind by today's writers and artists look like?

I'm reading diaries, correspondence, and even readers' marginal comments and marks made in printed material. But if these historical figures had communicated by email, kept weblogs, and read the Bible and the news online, instead of in printed form, imagine how much this would change the practice of studying this material. Certainly email and weblogs can be archived and saved, but what role would libraries play in doing this? And rather than there being a single digital Methodist Archive, for example, it seems that you could have as many copies made of this hypothetical data as you like. Would it lose its importance if it was always available to anyone at any time? Would there be a need for scholars to explore the archive, where access has traditionally be restricted, and synthesize their findings for an audience without access? Additionally, would we maintain the devices upon which the material was originally recorded so that we could fully understand the context in which it was produced, distributed, and received? As Matt's post on "Darknet Nostalgia" makes clear, something important is lost when the interface changes.

Aside from writing, consider the other activity at stake here: reading. Surely the scholar will need new tools, new methodologies, to recover the deleted browser cache and untangle its mysteries, speculate about the page at the other end of the broken link, or explain the connections between trackbacked blog entries spanning a dozen sites. And where did the reader record what she thought about her reading? Which portions of the text were most important to her?

We need to have a conversation about these issues. The future of the work we do depends on it.

June 5, 2003

wordherders

There's a main wordherders page, and there are now three wordherdering sites: mine, Jason's, and Mike's. More to come, I believe.

I've made this joke before but...

Yah! Get along little wordies!!

...I can't resist making it again.

somewhere, someone is blogging

My routine here, like clockwork, has been to get up around 6:45, eat an unbelievably massive breakfast at the place I'm staying -- because it's good, and because it's included in the price of my room -- then walk the two miles or so to this cafe to answer emails, read other folks' sites, and update my own.

Meanwhile, everyone in the states that I know reads the site is fast asleep either five (on the east coast), six (in middle America), or eight (west coast, if David is reading) behind. I can compose my posts with leisure, knowing that it will be hours before anyone gets up and logs on to see what I've written. Hang on, I believe some folks in England and Australia also read my site from time to time. Well, that complicates my simple little argument, doesn't it?

What I'm getting at is the fact that, as a post I read on someone's site weeks ago said, somewhere in the world, someone is writing something interesting on their site at almost any hour of the day.

I lived in Europe from 1979 to 1983, and then again in 1984 and 1985. I still remember the very day we flew over to Belgium. I woke up in the middle of the night in the hotel and experienced my first real insomnia for a few hours. Of course the time zone difference helped. Looking out at the road lit by orange-tinged sodium street lights, which I had never seen before, I felt like I was on the other side of the world, rather than just a quarter of the way around it. Over the next few years, it still felt like America was a long way away, and one of the defining experiences contributing to this feeling was the telephone. Trans-Atlantic long distance was extremely expensive in either direction, at least that's what my parents said; I never saw any phone bills. And there was a slight, half-second delay to every utterance; you could hear a faint repetition of what you just said as you talked to the person on the other end. I probably had less than ten such conversations in the five years I lived overseas. America was practically gone during those years, and I did not communicate very much with family or friends while I was gone.

By contrast, on this trip I can call L on my phone card every day for 14 cents a minute, and it sounds like I'm making a call from the same city, instead of from across the ocean: no delay, no static. I'm emailing regularly with friends and colleagues, and as you can see, I'm updating my blog regularly. All of this combines to make me feel like I really haven't travelled that far at all.

I think that like a lot of things he argued, Marshall McCluhan's concept of the global village brought together through mass communication is undertheorized, but from a personal perspective, my experience is much different now than it was twenty-odd years ago.

June 4, 2003

manchester information networks

I have found some wifi hotspots, but none that I can or want to use. Several Starbucks seem to offer T-mobile's service, which is too expensive. I can buy an hour at the Easy Internet Cafe for 50p in the morning, a pound in the afternoon, but the Starbucks across St. Ann's square from the cafe wants to charge me about 12p a minute for WiFi. This doesn't really make any sense, does it? I mean, what's the equipment cost? I provide the computer and the wireless card. All they're doing is giving me access to an Internet connection. There's also a strong wifi signal flooding the reading room of the library where I spend my days. I can't get anywhere using it, though. Perhaps it's just a local network.

I get a little kick out of thinking of the wireless signals bouncing around the nineteenth-century library or the eighteenth-century church a stone's throw from Starbucks.

There are some cool forms of communication here that are not unknown in America, but just not as common as here. Earlier I mentioned the phone booths that double as Internet kiosk. These are everywhere, though I've yet to see someone actually use them since that blog entry I made using one. On Albert Square, there's a (non-enclosed) kiosk call "i-plus information," which is a free access point that allows you to send an email (not from your own account; and you can't check your email), check the BBC news, and check the weather. It uses a tough, touch-sensitive screen and it has thick plexiglass plates on either side and over the top to shield you from the elements. I've only seen one person using this, though.

Finally, their mobile phones. Text-messaging seems like it's done more commonly here than in America. Well, at least there are a number of tv shows and ads that say "Text blah-blah-blah" to enter a contest or to vote for something. Also, there's an ad campaign going on right now to promote a mobile phone service that allows you to send video messages to other people on the service. Wow. That's a lot of bandwidth.

I know it's bad cultural studies practice to generalize based on limited observation, so I won't say these technologies characterize English culture or even Manchester culture, but these are the things I've observed.

C18 diaries & journals

Eighteenth-century diaries and journals. That's what I've been reading the past few days. And I've found some really fascinating stuff. Part of what makes them so interesting is the fact that the individual entries are not very far removed in time from the events that they describe, something I had discussed in an earlier entry on eighteenth-century epistolary fiction.

A significant difference with these documents, though, is that they describe events that (presumablyl) really happened, and this can have a poweful effect on a reader. I read a couple of decades of one man's life, month by month, from the time when the loneliness of the itinerant preaching life made him long for some kind of companionship, to when he met a young woman, to their marriage and their first children, to his sons dying, to his wife dying and him spending an entire month without preaching, changing his clothes, going to bed, or even leaving the house. It's hard not to be affected, though he died almost two hundred years ago.

His hands held these notebooks and the pen that put the ink to the paper. There's something of Walter Benjamin's "aura" in all of this.

http://ghw.wordherders.net

I'm officially a wordherder.

Yup, I'm migrating to the wordherders blogging collective that Jason started up.

The address of this blog is now http://ghw.wordherders.net, so please update your links and browsing habits. I will no longer be updating the blog at the old address.

I am very grateful to Jeff for giving me space on his CHLT server, and I'm not moving because I don't like the current server. I just wanted to be join in a quasi-collaborative project with a bunch of my blogging friends. I am also very grateful to Jason for his help in getting this new address set up.

June 2, 2003

resistance is futile

You know that scene in Best in Show where the young married couple explains how they first saw each other at Starbucks? Not the same Starbucks, though. She was in one on one side of the street, and he was in one on the other.

That's how many Starbucks there are in downtown Manchester.

busy sunday

One of my UMKC colleagues has an English friend who lives in London but travels to Manchester frequently. I met him when he came to KC late last fall, and he's been sending me useful info for months. Yesterday we spent the afternoon together, having a pretty good Italian meal at Cafe Uno on Albert Square, then going to the Whitworth Art Gallery to see their printmaking/Pop Art exhibit entitled "Editions Alecto: A Fury for Prints, Artists' Prints and Multiples 1960-81". (Editions Alecto has their own website). Aftwards, more conversation over tea. All in all, a great way to spend my Sunday.

Update: I forgot to mention one of the most interesting parts of our conversation. He's a member of this organization devoted to eradicating the British monarchy.

June 1, 2003

alan turing memorial

This morning I went by the Alan Turing (1912-1954) memorial, a sculpture by Glyn Hughes in Sackville Park.

The following is summarized from the text accompanying the memorial. Turing published "On Computable Numbers" in 1936, "in which he conceived of 'a universal computing machine' which would be able to carry out thought processes using numbers and is thus regarded as the father of computer science." During World War 2, he devised the machines that broke the German naval enigma code, a feat which played a significant part in the Allied victory of that war.

After the war, he joined a team at Manchester University "responsible for the most important breakthroughs in the development of the electronic computer." He also wrote "a surprisingly readable manual on computer programming."

When the police were investigating a break-in at his home, he casually mentioned his relationship with another man, which led to his prosecution for homosexuality, illegal at the time in Britain. Because homosexuality was thought to be a security risk due to the potential for blackmail, he was excluded from continuing his work at the university. He was also forced to take hormone injections to "cure" him of his sexuality.

Turing committed suicide at the age of 42 by injecting an apple with cyanide and taking a bite. "His work on artificial intelligence and the mathematical basis of biological forms remains unfinished." We can only imagine how different modern computer science and computing technology would be if most of the twentieth century had not been characterized by unselfconsciously paranoid homophobia.

The memorial is a very simple statue of him sitting on a park bench with an apple in his hand. The apple obviously invokes his suicide, but also, of course, Sir Isaac Newton and the idea of forbidden sexuality implied in the story of the Garden of Eden.

A biopic called Breaking the Code was made in the 1990s, with Derek Jacobi portraying Turing.

Two very different quotes run through my head this morning after seeing the memorial and thinking about Turing's life. The first comes from George Whitefield, eighteenth-century Methodist evangelist, on anti-Methodist prejudice in England and America:

Bigotry is as cold as the grave. It knows no remorse.

The second comes from a track, available as an MP3 for free, legal download at Protest Records, by the Cucumbers called "Illegal."

Is there a circle around those you love?
Where does it start, and why does it end?

Illegal!

Well, what're you gonna do
when the vast majority of people don't think like you do?

Is what you want against the law?