What TV show(s) will you be watching this season? Why?
Submitted by ducnly.vox.com.
Since neither I nor most of my friends subscribe to cable television (and local broadcasts come in terribly) my TV-oriented plans are somewhat up in the air. One thing I will be watching, though, is 12 oz. Mouse, which just began a new season last night. My friend R. and I had to rush between a couple of bars looking for someplace that would let us fiddle with one of their many blaring sets. About two minutes before the show we found ourselves jogging up to the door of Chubby's, a rather squallid dive usually populated by throngs of college greeks. They have little sets in each of the few booths in the corner. We settled in just in time, but it was nearly impossible to hear the dialogue--I think I successfully decoded about 1/3 of it.
If you're not familiar with the show, I'm afraid it tends to defy concise description. Fortunately wikipedia has a serviceable article on the matter here. What's so excellent about it is that, at least at the beginning, the show is mostly empty signifiers arranged to create the impression of a narrative but without any grounded meaning. As it develops, you start to understand the roles of the characters and elements better, but for the most part it remains a largely inscrutible pastiche.
But as the Reading Rainbow line goes, "don't take my word for it!" Check out the first episode at left (11 min.).
What's your musical horoscope? (Put your music player on shuffle and write down the first 10 songs that come up.) Inspired by Stephanie.
cLOUDDEAD - Bike, pt. 2
Mount Eerie - Moon, I Already Know
Ornette Coleman - Rubber Gloves
Tiger Trap - Prettiest Boy
Animal Collective - Bat You'll Fly
Brendon Small [Rabbit Troop] - Camp Campington Collection
Sonny Sharrock - As We Used To Sing
The Books - Liternité
Casiotone For The Painfully Alone - Number 10
Caribou - Anna & Nina
What do you collect?
When I was a kid I used to have a bunch of wholly half-assed collections of things--rocks, bottle caps, shark teeth, and other miscellanea. I never put much effort into maintaining or expanding them, much less organizing or displaying what I did have. I think most of these collections formed out some general sense that collecting something might be a cool or fun thing to do.
I guess I didn't realize that I was more legitimately collecting things already--like LEGOs. I would often buy smaller sets just to get a few of the more interesting and uncommon pieces. I eventually had multiple boxes to organize them, and wound up getting a little set of tackle boxes for the smaller and more specialized pieces. Of course, my collection was paltry compared to some I'd seen, but it served my purposes. I certainly had no trouble pursuing my more realistic creative visions with what I had.
When I read the QotD, my first thought was "umm...nothing?" But I quickly recognized an analogue for LEGOs in my current life: digital media. Of course there is probably some technical distinction between "collecting" and "pack-ratting" but I do have criteria for discerning whether or not I want to assimilate something into the archives, a set of filing systems for keeping it vaguely organized, a group of favorites/gems, etc. In that sense, it's the most genuine of collections I've ever formed, and I do rather prize it. To some extent I value it more than I could a physical collection of anything other than media. It's something that I can constantly use without wearing out, give away without losing, modify, remix, mash-up, split up, etc. without losing the original form.
Beyond that, the only form it takes is a result of its contents. A stamp collection is just that--regardless of the individual pieces that compose it, it's still a stamp collection. But building a collection of multi/hypermedia requires the synthesis of one's experience with the individual components. Like physical collecting, it is a creative act of placing the pieces in context with one another. Unlike conventional collecting, this process is about drawing connections and exploring outward, rather than setting boundaries and isolating the collection's components. Semantic collecting perhaps?
I can't wait until open source file systems integrate tagging...
I tend to depend on Amazon for book deals, but with their ludicrously slow free shipping it's a good idea to take advantage of local deals. Of course, it's not like the mom-'n-pops bookshops around here can afford to have great sales, so it's still feeding the corporate beasts, but dumpster diving books isn't a great option when looking for worthwhile illustrated/children's literature. A member of my certification program cohort recently gave me this heads up:
"Books A Million has marked down a good bit of the summer reading books that were not purchased this year. They can be found on the "Kids" clearance table. The books are usually around $3."
She also notes that one can purchase book sets as well as individual titles via Scholastic.
"There's a Newberry pack that includes: "Old Yeller," "Sarah, Plain and Tall," "The Hundred Dresses," and a few other books..."The Tale of the Despereaux" in paperback, "The Giver," "Tuck Everlasting," "Ella Enchanted," "Esperanza Rising," "Holes," "Langston Hughes, Poetry for Young People.""
I'm not sure of my opinion of such "packs." I tend to believe that thematically-connected groups of literature make for a good program of study, but variety and student choice are vastly preferable to globs of books grouped by their award-winning or whatever other status. I've been forced to choose from an approved list of films to report on that was limited to academy nominees, and it sucked. Clinging to mainstream critical recognition as an evaluative tool seems like an obstacle to providing genuine choice and variety.
Anyhow, I guess I'll try to make it out to the bookstore after class tonight. There's a great book called
The Three Questions that I'd very much like to get a copy of. It's fairly straightforward adaptation of Tolstoy's story, but the illustrations are amazing. The remind me very much of the intense, pure, childlike anarchist iconography that populates my friend D.'s mindset and literary forays. I think it's a great text for examining issues of individual vs. social self-definition. The ethics of living in the midst of an imploding society (not to mention the simple challenges of drawing and maintaining boundaries around one's ego) are perhaps best dealt with through works with this degree of affective quality. I've tried a basic transactionally-oriented lesson to use with this before, but I'd like to align it with critical dimensions as well.
This is a test of this spankin' new beta account, but if anyone else is reading it, it's also an introduction. So this blog will hopefully be a collection of personal thoughts on issues concerning technology, pedagogy, classroom teaching experiences, and probably whatever else I've got the energy to write about. Let's see if it works...
