Readmill has just posted an official confirmation of yesterday’s acquisition story. They now belong to Dropbox, and the new owner is going to shut down Readmill.
It’s Official: Dropbox Buys Readmill, Will Shut it Down in 3 Months - The Digital Reader
Another day, another app in my toolbox dies. It’s enough to make a forward thinking lit/tech geek very cautious about investing any serious time or effort in the next big app that comes along…
Stands to reason. Beyond itooamoxford.tumblr.com, there’s also itooamsoas.tumblr.com and wetooarecambridge.tumblr.com, capturing the experiences of “students of colour”. Most of the images give pause. Every now and then, one of them hits particularly hard.
The point is to get your work done, and your work is to change the world.
So I’m really very into the Quantified Self movement, although I’m not quite a QS data-meister. I’ve owned a few wearables— a Fuelband (which died late last year) and an UP band (which died recently, sniff), and I’ve usually always got some kind of tracking experiment going on. I’m currently making use of
Reporter, Oda, Moves and a few Numbers spreadsheets to track the highs and lows of my daily activity. That said, perhaps the most accurate indication for my mood and productivity is my web-based output. When I’m firing on all cylinders, the writing happens, blog posts flow, and pictures get taken. When I’m manic, the creative outputs drop off, one by one, and yet it’s such a soul-warming thing to write, to capture a beautiful image… it’s exactly what I need when buried under a seemingly infinite pile of things to do.
The weather’s changing (for the better) here in London, and though I’m currently still manic, the compulsion to get the camera out is returning. I’m dusting off my photoblog and the Flickr account (member since 2005!) and hoping to crank out a few new images in the not too distant future. I’ve just scanned through my most recent memory active card, and I’ve come across a backlog of images that haven’t yet seen the light of day, largely drawn from the poetry events I’ve supported/managed/run over the past couple of years.
Franklyn Rodgers once challenged me to do more documentary work. I think I’d like to do more along these lines. More to capture some sense the worlds I find myself living and working within.
back to the camera.
Roman Mars — This is Radio
This, for no real reason other than the fact that I’m a stalwart listener of 99% Invisible…
Person of colour? Ever identify with the label of “other”? You need to see
I, Too, Am Oxford.
I took a quick trip through the archives today, and it moved me in ways I didn’t expect. So much that resonates with my own school experience, and other experiences since. Simple idea, powerful collective statement.
You describe seemingly fantastic events in such minute detail that it gives them their own reality. Is this something you have picked up from journalism?
That’s a journalistic trick which you can also apply to literature. For example, if you say that there are elephants flying in the sky, people are not going to believe you. But if you say that there are four hundred and twenty-five elephants flying in the sky, people will probably believe you. One Hundred Years of Solitude is full of that sort of thing. That’s exactly the technique my grandmother used. I remember particularly the story about the character who is surrounded by yellow butterflies. When I was very small there was an electrician who came to the house. I became very curious because he carried a belt with which he used to suspend himself from the electrical posts. My grandmother used to say that every time this man came around, he would leave the house full of butterflies. But when I was writing this, I discovered that if I didn’t say the butterflies were yellow, people would not believe it.
Such a small, pure object a poem could be, made of nothing but air, a tiny string of letters, maybe small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. But it could blow everybody’s head off.
Mary Karr, from Lit: A Memoir (Harper, 2009)
litpine, via apoetreflects)
The writer should never be ashamed of staring. There is nothing that does not require his [or her] attention.
Flannery O’ Connor (via apoetreflects)
dodicesimo, via apoetreflects)
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