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Digital Story v4: My destruction

Digital Story v4
I have my Dad’s hands, hands that love to touch and create and build
and rampage.

I lay on the living room floor, legos spread out before me:
a sea of plastic possibilites. I hear their call

I feel it in my hands which seem to move of their own accord: searching, grasping, fitting.

My elbows burn as they sink deeper into the carpet. I feel I have it, this love, this need
to build
order from chaos.
to create. Or at least to try.
Then,
My hands fail, the pieces fly,
I feel the rage, the boiling blood and steam
I see it as though from a distance, my knuckles white as bone as they clutch what are now only remnants,
as they macerate.
And my dreams skitter across the room.

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A Response to Unit 1: Digital Stories

For me the first unit was about more than learning about digital stories – it was about creating the el170 space. The digital story then gave me a chance to dive in and get my proverbial hands dirty, truly experiencing the multidimensionality of writing. They helped me break through the assumptions I carry about how writing should be, by turning it completely inside out. Actually, it was more than just the digital stories. The whole process of playing writing games, creating-then-using our PUD’s, workshopping, reading and discussing, and of course blogging allowed my brain soak in the creative juices and loosen up. I’ve found it much easier to withhold judgment while writing, and allow the ideas to flow out and take whatever shape they need to. This has allowed me to create pieces that I never could have consciously forced myself to do.

I feel like now I am creating organically and producing spontaneous pieces that grow on their own without my stifling them. Our process has acted as a foundation for me, providing a sturdy base upon which to build. Like a form of self-hypnosis, I end up tricking my mind into disengaging from its traditional vigilance, and averting its ominous gaze. No longer under such pressure, the ideas are able to flourish unhindered. Then, I can feel good for having accomplished something, even if it is only filling a page of my notebook with words that are pure and natural rather than forced and over-processed.

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Digital Story v3: My destruction

Digital Story v3
In my hands I see my Dad. I lay sprawled out, , the the living room floor’s soft carpet burns, rough on my elblows. I see how I have it, his love to build, to press together, to feel the order of meshing gears.

Until the gears slip, the joints crack, and the base slips away. My blood sizzles, and with a swipe the neat lines and angles are crumbled, dissolved to sand, and swept away a sudden gust of wind. I shiver, and pick up what is left of my creation. My destruction

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To Do Someday…

A quick link posting page, where links can be left for later discussion, creating a newsfeed of sorts… basically what del.icio.us does, but automated. Not sure how the tags would enter into it…

Though this would be more for things like interesting blog posts, and news articles, which I’ve found difficult to have any sort of repository for. So far I’ve been blogging them, but I’m usually on the run and don’t have time to do much of a post. And often there are just too many! A kind of linkroll might work…

So, yeah… basically just wanted to throw that out there…

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Digital Story v2

Buzzing with anticipation, I drag my bin of legos into the center of the living room floor. I tip the bin up, unleashing a sea of pieces, little yellow men bobbing with the waves. The empty carpet calling to be covered is barely audible over the plastic rush.

So I build, fashion, fit. Deconstruct, retrofit, reassemble. My face contorted, I press harder, something won’t work. (“SHIT!” The release.)

These are two things I’ve inherited from my Dad: his building, and his short fuse. A spark of irritation sets the wick burning, hiss… BOOM. (“SHIT!” The release.)

Chunks fly, meet the carpet and dissolve into pieces again. I look around bewildered. Who said that? I did? Did I even know what it meant? Shit. But somehow I knew it was wrong, You’re not supposed to. But why not…? Back to my legos… Take a deep breath, try again.

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Posting With 3rd Party Clients

So, if you don’t have to deal only with the annoying web interface… using so-called “third-party clients” (made by other software companies other than Six Apart, who make Movable Type) can make blogger a much more pleasant experience. It also allows you to author entries offline, then post them later, as well as a host of other features. (I’ve only tried SharpMT so far, but it works great!)

EDIT: update! I’d now recommend you try MTClient. It’s light and easy to use, and is the only one so far that actually lets you post drafts to the server…
Here are two pages to read for more info…

This link is a list of several clients known to work with Movable Type blogs. I’ll try out a few and then post which one I think is best, probably by tomorrow or maybe this weekend. I’m using SharpMT right now and it’s great, just a little hard to install.

BUT, you must first go here and follow the instructions to create a separate password to use with third-party clients for added security. (Basically, just log into mt, then click your name at the very top right where it says “Welcome ____”. Then, scroll down and enter an “API Password”, you may have to enter a password hint as well (though I think this hint is supposed to be for your regular password, not the API one.)

Then, when you get around to setting up the software, enter “http://mt.middlebury.edu/mt/mt-xmlrpc.cgi” in the application settings where needed. (or if it asks for the cgi-bin directory, only enter “http://mt.middlebury.edu/mt/”)

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Review: Beyond Twilight – Section X

Band: Beyond Twilight
Country: Denmark
Album: Section X, released June 15, 2005 in the USA
Label: Nightmare Records
Genre: Sci-Fi themed Progressive Metal

Section X is, to put it bluntly, a masterpiece. With Finn Zierler on Keyboards and as producer and the driving creative force behind the band, they have brushed aside all conventions and created a truly unique piece of dark, brooding progressive metal. With that said, it must be noted that this is a “concept album”, complete with cheesy intro, “Log Entry 2004-Z Nucleic extraction sucessful…” The lyrics themselves are nothing to write home about, pretty much standard “sci-fi” fare, but when combined with the atmosphere and force of Section X’s brilliant songwriting and orchestration, they take on a life of their own. Much like a somewhat flimsy script can be transformed into a truly bone-rattling movie by a skilled director, Section X is transformed into an errily forboding piece of Sci-Fi metal.

The Beyond Twilight sound really must be heard to be understood. They combine unique rhythms, 5/4 waltz you say? with melodic passages and tearing riffs. The vocals come in to provide the emotional glue, and I must say despite any personality quirks, Kelly really delivers on this release. More importantly though, is the band’s versatility as a whole. Able to switch effortlessly from quiet piano passages to mad guitar and keyboard riff-fests that make you feel the terror of imminent mad-scientist-induced destruction.

The production is flawless, the songwriting masterful and original and never boring or repetitive. At times the keyboards sound a bit fake, they would have been better suited to finding a real wooden piano for some of the parts, but this is only a minor problem. This album is worth shelling out the money for, and worth telling your friends about. It has already gone down as one of the best releases of 2005, and has allowed Beyond Twilight to get the metal community’s attention through sheer musical ability, a feat practically unheard of in this age of absolute media saturation and control.

Production: 5/5
Musicianship: 5/5
Lyrics: 3.5/5
Overall: A-

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Blog Spam

To mix things up a bit here are a few interesting links on the current state of the blog spam universe.

The State of Spam [Karma]
This first link is a blog post by the developer of the Spam Karma anti-spam plugin. He talks about how until now, the programmers behind all the spam-post-bots (almost all spam is created by automated programs, hence spam being an attractive proposition) have been largely “stupid”, and thus their bots relatively easy to stop. However, a new breed of spam has emerged, and the bots behind this spam appear to have grown immensely in sophistication and code quality.
His writing style is easy and fun to read, and gives an interesting perspective on the issue. After all, he is both a coder and a blogger.

Mark on Weblog Spam
This next link is much older, from November of 2003, and is much more about the nature of Spam as an industry; and spammers as a group of particularly unscrupulous businesspersons.

Akismet Eats 2 Million
Last is a quick link to the post on the Akismet blog celebrating their spam plugin’s two-millionth piece of spam. They write that it took two months to block one million, and only twenty days to reach two. This is of course also due to their plugin’s growing popularity, but still, that’s a lot of spams! (I use Akismet on my other blog and it performs flawlessly– farewell spam… for now)

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Letter To The Class

My earliest memory of writing is sharp–it floats to mind clearly. I see a much younger version of myself. It is Kindergarten, Ms. F’s class, journal writing time. We each has one, a big black book of pristine paper on which to make our mark. I remember a boy writing out a scrambled sentence of shapes, followed by a large blue mass. A teacher’s helper came over and added a caption to his satisfaction, in neat ordered hand. It was a story about a whale. Across the room the Assistant Teacher is sitting with a boy named Josh, tape recorder in hand. He already knows how to read and she wants it on tape. I see myself telling jokes, swiveled in my chair, energy exploding everywhere, "Apples and bananaaaas!" Josh can’t stop laughing, and the teacher glares my way. I’m already seated by myself. My paper is still blank.

Another memory is from second grade. I’m writing a book report on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and my parents are floating behind me. The wide ruled paper is mostly empty, and my pencils rattle back and forth across the desk as I wait for inspiration. I remember crying — and yelling, my parents yell too. The report is finished somehow, and my final touch is an erector set conveyor belt, set up to dispense chocolates.

As I write I tend to edit, typing — delete — typing… delete. I love to craft the sentences just right, but at times the ideas fail to come. I strain, pulling what droplets I can muster from that hidden reservoir which has decided to close for the day. I see myself filling with anger, frustration, dispair. And so I do something else.

I also remember reading — long hours of hardy boys in the summertime, curled up in the cottage. Our whole family devoutly focused on our pages. I read and read. Then I’m reading in school, too. And suddenly it isn’t so much fun. And then there is the comptuer, and even video games… and the internet. So much to see, read, drink up. An infinite oasis of things to see and do and experience and take in. Yet its grip can be ruthless, and painful.

Writing to me is usually not about words, or letters, or periods or predicates. It’s about memories that fade, and ideas that float away.