swarthmore is winding down; everyone is barbequing and talking about comic books and watching nature specials at 4amtoday:
two papers between me and nirvana.
one goddamn paper down (two too toe)
i had to write a final paper in history of the language, a class with a professor seemingly lifted from some norse time, albiet scrawny and bespectacled, but with a red beard and a lust for hearty lyrics and bawdy riddles. he in turn imbued in me a flavour for the times of drink and song, and an appreciation for raunchy riddles and epic poems. and i thunk to myself, i'd like to write a hearty epic about the web, with like battles, and flagons of ale spilling on wooden keyboards.
so for the final paper...
when i sat down and addressed myself to such an undertaking, i found the epic of the web needed a hero. and as much as i like to tell stories and talk about my experiences, i was not prepared to make myself into an epic hero, and tell an epic scale tale of my wanderings of the web.
see, the story of wired has developed quite a bit in the last week or three; articles linked from the bibliography of the analysis should explain the situation: in short, Wired Magazine is no longer editorially, or financially, or brandingly directed by Louis Rossetto, the guy who dreamt it up with his partner Jane - they've been moved aside after a failure to raise the big bucks (what does it feel like to lose your child?). so now they like own the web sites (and he, who never hung out online in his life) they own the web sites, and the old school money making media is part of conglomerate. and the brand he savoured and relished and actually penetrated the american consciousness some with, that brand is now split in twain and should they meet? he will likely not have much control. and since the sale only went down for around $90mil, he will not even likely end up with more than $10mil, if that, maybe not even $2mil, who knows - certainly not enough to enjoy life post-publishing as a venture capitalist, or whatever one does after attempted mogul-hood.
my goal is to someday conquer coherent oral poetic formulation and take up the epic poetic history of the web at large
dennis crowley is a slice of life i seldom see anymore these days, especially online, in that kind of artful multimedia. i mean it's one thing to see a carefully wraught online diary of a sensitive person working through life with a broken cappucino machine, it's quite another to see dennis, drunk again! gosh that's fun!
amy steered me straight; "emperor tomato ketchup" is the best stereolab album.