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01.31.07

Man Saves Own Life

Aaron Anstett

In the morning, before breakfast, I save my own life,
then walk around the house all day a hero.
Friends come by and ask how it feels.
I say it just happened. I couldn't help it.
They'd do the same in my shoes. I don't tell them how,
before I knew it, something raced down my fingers
and my feet. Something made me strong.
It crowded itself in my arms and my heart
and filled me up with as strange and kind a feeling
as I could remember, and suddenly I knew nothing
but I had to help that guy. It wasn't words. No voice
told me. It was more like light behind my eyes, weight
pressing in from every direction. High notes pierced me,
and it was clear what I had to do.

01.30.07

Redhead Project #56

BOLLES: Toast of the Town

01.28.07

the worth of the writer

Preliminary facts: I don’t watch America’s Next Top Model, mostly because I haven’t really watched TV since I started grad school, but I kept up with the strike last year because an old friend of mine was a writer for the show. I am, however, an inveterate reader of Vanity Fair, which ran a rather fawning piece on Tyra Banks, producer and diva of ANTM, this month. And that, along with finally getting around to reading Clint’s last post and my usual concern about what writers are worth, is what finally prompted this aggregation of quotes.

Tyra is on a “mission,” she says. She even has a a “Mission Statement,” which her Endeavor agent, Nancy Josephson, later e-mails to me: “It’s important to make people feel good, to show compassion, to be uplifting“ ...

“A Model Mogul,” Vanity Fair 2/07, 186

My talk show has totally changed me and opened me. I used to just be about being a good role model and helping women, but I didn’t realize the vast way I could do it. It’s made me more aware.

VF 2/07, 188

Her income last year was reportedly $18 million. Her Bankable Productions also owns 25 percent of America’s Next Top Model, which is currently syndicated in 110 countries around the globe, but she won’t reveal her net worth. “Sometimes I feel guilty for how much money I have,” she tells me.

VF 2/07, 170

Like every other reality-TV show, Model credits no writers; instead, viewers may glimpse the names of 12 associate or assistant producers who are actually the show’s writing team. One problem for the new CW Network is that if these “producers” were listed as writers, they would be eligible for membership in the Writers Guild of America — and the salary levels and benefits that would come with union membership. ... “Writing for reality TV,” says Catalyst, “is a contest in the industry to see who will work for the least. Because they don’t have the minimums that they have in traditionally scripted television, there is no cutoff point here as to how low it can go.” In fact, because they are not credited, the 12 Top Model writers have no salary minimums, health insurance or pension plans.

“Reality Strikes,” LA Weekly News, 8/2/06

The Writers Guild of America, West (WGAW) has cried foul after the producers of The CW’s America’s Next Top Model scratched a dozen striking staffers off the payroll. The WGAW Monday filed unfair labor practice charges with the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB), alleging the show’s producers unlawfully eliminated the jobs of the 12 “writers” in retaliation for their decision to go on strike last July to demand union representation.

Top Model Takes Strikers Off Payroll”, Broadcasting & Cable, 11/7/06

book miscellany

The Cambridge History of Libraries in Britain and Ireland in now available for the bargain price of $180 per volume on Amazon. (Ahem.) It sounds fascinating, though, especially for those of us who practice a certain slant of book history. Peter Hoare, the general editor, described it thusly on SHARP-L:

This is the first scholarly history of libraries in these islands to cover the whole period up to the present day. It aims to include libraries of all types (institutional and private), as well as the development of library buildings and furnishing, their user communities - and not least librarians and their colleagues in related areas of endeavour, the evolution of today's profession.

The Vatican comes out of the closet and embraces Oscar Wilde.

Dangers of the "Book of Nature" metaphor.

I want to be a Culinary Philologist in my next life: The Cookbook as Literature, an excerpt from Aguecheek’s Beef, Belch’s Hiccup, and Other Gastronomic Interjections: literature, culture, and food among the early moderns.

Preserve the serial comma!

An Estonian site entirely devoted to bookclasps. If this is your bag, be sure to click around — there’s much more here than first meets the eye. (via Bibliodyssey.)

01.26.07

after a lull

01.25.07

dissertation mascot

Dissertation Mascot

This stuffed sting ray was a gift from Mister Husband when I passed my orals. It’s been living on my desk ever since, partly because I wasn’t sure where else to put it, and partly because obviously it should be where it and the hillstream loaches (also known as sting ray loaches) can see each other.

I’ve been hammering away at the diss proposal while it lounges around and watches, and it’s become sort of obvious that it’s the dissertation mascot. I would have thought something more sinister would take up that position, but I can work with a sting ray.

(This is totally Billie’s fault, of course.)

Update: “Sting rays wound anyone who tried to catch them and inject a powerful poison. They love music, the dance and witty remarks.” — Aldrovandi, Monstrorum historia, 1642.

Micro$oft tries to pay for Wikipedia edits

Microsoft Corp. has landed in the Wikipedia doghouse after it offered to pay a blogger to change technical articles on the community-produced Web encyclopedia site. ... Brooker said Microsoft and the writer, Rick Jelliffe, had not determined a price and no money had changed hands — but they had agreed that the company would not be allowed to review his writing before submission. Brooker said Microsoft had never previously hired someone to influence a Wikipedia article.
Apparently, they were trying to counter information on open-source standards that they believed had been contributed by IBM. We’re used to seeing political strategy played out on Wikipedia by this point, but this is the first time that hired corporate warfare by a Fortune 500 company has been documented.

01.24.07

beware of the shrieking eels

This footage of a dying frilled shark (Chlamydoselachus anguineus) was uploaded today all over the Internets. It’s a deep sea critter, so sightings are rare. It’s also called an eel shark, and thusly reminds me of a shrieking eel from The Princess Bride, and those immortal lines of Vizzini:

Do you know what that sound is, highness? Those are the shrieking eels! If you don't believe me, just wait. They always grow louder when they're about to feed on human flesh! If you swim back now I promise no harm will come to you...I doubt you'll get such an offer from the eels.
Of course, the shrieking eels were much more purposeful than this poor thing. Apparently, they never last very long in captivity.

observations and predictions

  • I love living in a place that has an Art Shanty Project. The world needs more artistic ice fishing houses.
  • I loathe living in a legal system and cultural economy where Kahle v Ashcroft is finally dead. I’d write more about that, but I can’t really say anything that hasn’t been said before. Let’s just reiterate that until there’s an orphan works provision in Title 17, our cultural heritage is screwed.
  • I predict that this semester’s reading will involve a ton of diss stuff plus a bunch of John Irving and A.S. Byatt. I read The Cider House Rules in the midst of a bunch of other stuff over the break and right now I’m halfway through Trying to Save Piggy Sneed. A Prayer for Owen Meany and A Widow for One Year are waiting on the shelf. I’ll order more Byatt soon: Elementals and The Djinn in the Nightengale’s Eye.
  • You want to see New York Doll, the Arthur “Killer” Kane documentary. Really, you do. Even if you’re not a fan of the Dolls or rock history. It’s not a New York Dolls documentary, which is what I was expecting. Instead, it runs through the necessary background on Arthur and then focuses on his conversion to the Mormon Church, his job in the LDS Family Research Library, and his decision to regroup with the remaining Dolls in 2004, right before his death. The interviews, which are split pretty evenly between the usual suspects and church members he was close to, are remarkable. And Arthur himself is remarkable in many ways, both as a subject and as a person. I cried at the end, and I don’t cry at movies.
  • Note to self: You may have thought you were lightly sprinkling the Five Spice powder in last night’s stir fry. In the future, remember that “sprinkling” takes on a whole new definition, proportionately speaking, when Five Spice is involved.

teaching cadence

I usually teach delivery as we go along in Scientific and Technical Presentations, and tend to rely on speeches as examples because duh, look at the course title. But last semester I taught a consolidated lesson on it after the students had done a couple of presentations, with the thought that they could compare their previous performances with the artifacts we were analyzing. This version also incorporated quite a few pop culture examples. They understood the point a lot better than they did with the all-speeches version, but they also said that they should have had this lecture at the beginning of the semester. So this time I came out of the gate with two days on Cadence. We’re using pop examples at the start and then segueing into straight-up oratory.

For analyzing ethos and physical delivery, we looked at two of Apple’s Mac vs PC commercials and Weird Al’s White and Nerdy. The Apple ads seemed to work particularly well. White and Nerdy went really well last semester, not so much this time. As examples of ethos and verbal delivery, we examined What’s He Building In There (Tom Waits), the intro to Make My Funk the P-Funk (Parliament), and I Know You (Rollins). To bring the two concepts together, we analyzed Talaam Acey’s True Lies. I was impressed with the discussion that surrounded that one; I did my usual song-and-dance about being forensic rhetoricians who analyze rhetorical elements, not personal politics, and they all came up with smart, insightful things to say. We’ll bring all this to bear on “I Have a Dream” next.

An aside: This is the fourth time I’ve taught this course, but the first time I’ve taught it with low enrollment. There are 7 of us instead of 20-25, because it’s an off-peak class than meets until 3 p.m. MWF. (Nobody wants to be on campus for a required course on public speaking late on Friday afternoons.) The vibe is entirely different, of course, but I’m thinking it’ll work out well with this particular group of students. We’ll see.

01.19.07

Redheads in Vintage Ads

Jantzen advertisement

The illustrious and industrious Himmer sent us this image, snagged from Plan 59: The Museum of Mid-Century Illustration. There are many wonders to behold there, especially in the Advertising section, which contains mid-century feminine ideals like this and this.

I can’t feature them in the Redhead Project, since they’re not strictly pinups. But this would be an excellent project for someone else — like, oh, this Australian teenager, who has been hot-linking Redhead Project images for her own Redhead Weekly.

01.16.07

2006 winter break movie marathon

The first day of the semester traditionally brings an end to the Winter Break Movie Marathon, so that must mean it’s time to post the rundown. This year tilted toward documentaries and musicals, oddly enough.

  1. Modern Times: Totally planning on teaching with this. The extras on the Chaplin Collection special editions are wondrous and mind-boggling. Lots of teaching material there too.
  2. Moonstruck, which I am compelled to watch every year sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I’ve done this for the past 15 years. I have no idea why.
  3. Life After Tomorrow: worth seeing even if you weren’t an Annie-stricken little girl in the late 70s or early 80s.
  4. An Ox’s Tale: The John Entwistle Story: Mandatory viewing for Who fans.
  5. Natural Born Killers, Director’s Cut: remarkably different from the original. Nice extras, including Oliver Stone’s commentary on deleted scenes.
  6. Fargo: Very strange to see this again after having lived here for a few years. Since the Cohen brothers are from here, one would expect the details to be amazingly correct, down to the Old Dutch potato chips. The only mistake we caught was Carl saying “car tags”, which should be “car tabs”. Minnesota Nice, the making-of documentary, is particularly good.
  7. Spaceballs: Not the best of Brook’s ouvre, imho, and limited DVD extras. We amused ourselves by playing the Yogurt scenes in Spanish and French. I took two full years of Spanish in high school, followed by nine hours of college credits. I took half a semester of college French. And I understood approximately as much of the Spanish dialogue as I did the French. Either I retain French better, or I really, really, suck at Spanish. (Actually, I’m certain it’s the second part.) Depressing.
  8. Last of the Missisippi Jukes: Lovely, lively tribute to the disappearing Mississippi Juke Joint. Seen it before, but can always see it again.
  9. William Eggleston In the Real World: I quit watching about 30 minutes in because I was homesick and the southern landscapes in the film were making it worse. Mister Husband watched the whole thing, and says it rocks.
  10. You and Me and Everyone We Know: “In 20 years, soup will be computerized.” “Why?” “Because it’s liquid.” Excellent film for teaching digital lives.
  11. Terminator 2, Director's Cut. Nearly three hours long, but generally improved.
  12. Siegfried and Roy: The Magic Box: In 3-D. With 3-D glasses. And now I sort of mostly regret making fun of them before, because the movie is surprisingly fun and touching.
  13. Must Love Dogs: Sweet. And good Lord, Diane Lane is aging well.
  14. Animal House: Same old.
  15. Neil Young: Heart of Gold. Is it wrong that I spent part of the film being mesmerized by the backdrop?
  16. De-Lovely: I’d been meaning to see this for a couple of years now, and it surpassed my expectations. Excellent framing, acting, singing, makeup. I knew Kevin Kline could sing (The Pirate Movie!), but apparently he also did all his own piano work here as well. Impressive.
  17. The Decline and Fall of Western Civilization II: The Heavy Metal Years. Hilarious.
  18. Rocky: Because I had somehow never managed to see it before.
  19. When the Levees Broke, I and II: more on this later, if I have the strength.
  20. The Aristocrats. Feeeeelthy. I am scarred for life now.
  21. The Producers: Nathan Lane really is the closest thing we have to Zero Mostel these days, isn’t he? The new ending goes on about 20 minutes too long, though.
  22. The Ice Harvest: dark, dark, bloody Christmas humor.
  23. Memoirs of a Geisha: gorgeous. I should have been paying more attention.
  24. Bewitched: In which I admire Will Ferrell more all the time. Still, not particularly good.
  25. Christmas with the Kranks: Surprisingly good. I expected it to be reasonably funny, but it’s actually very well written, and Jamie Lee Curtis and Tim Allen make a very believable couple.
  26. Nanny McPhee: Sly. Wry. Arch. I have to see it again.
  27. The Family Stone: Interesting and well-written, and I’d like to see it again since I missed the first twenty minutes. It’s quite rare to see a decent deaf character. Actually, I can’t remember any, offhand.

semester goals

1. Like Billie, gotta work on the diss every day. Every morning, actually, since I teach MWF.

2. Prep on Sundays, so as to leave the mornings free for writing.

3. Confine teaching to teaching days. Because when I’m teaching online, it’s too easy to pop in to check on things at odd moments and thus be teaching all the time.

01.15.07

culture clash

As everyone knows, I’m from Arkansas. Mister Husband is Oklahoman by way of California. You would think we would have fairly similar food backgrounds, especially given the fact that my in-laws are straight-up Oklahomans. But no. In more than four years, we have still not managed to resolve the issue of cornbread. We disagree on several key aspects:

  1. Basic Geometry: Where I come from (my grandma’s kitchen), cornbread is round. Always. She made hers in a pie plate, but cast iron skillets really do give a better crust. It is sliced like pie, so that you end up with wedges. Cornbread may also come in the form of muffins, which are, of course, round.

    It will not surprise you to hear that Mister Husband makes square cornbread. Rectangular, actually, which is then cut into squares.

  2. Dimensions: When making round cornbread, one makes a lot. There should be enough batter to mostly fill the pie plate or skillet. Once it rises, the baking dish will be filled completely. When all is said and done, the result is a thick wedge of cornbread 1 1/2 to 2 inches thick. This is diametrically opposed to Mister Husband’s theory of thickness, wherein the cornbread must be thin so as to maximize the ratio of crust to breadiness.

  3. Bisecting and Final Form: When served a hot wedge (or square) of cornbread, one slices it in half and butters it. This we agree upon. I feel strongly that the two slices must remain separate for individual delectation. He puts them back together and eats them that way. This difference is directly related to individual philosophies of dimensionality: a thick piece is too thick to eat unless cut in half, and a thin piece is too delicate to pick up unless it’s mushed together.
One thing we do agree on is that the cornbread should be slightly sweet. We agree on a recipe, and since Clancy asked for it I’ll put it below the fold.

This is Paul Prudhomme’s recipe from Chef Paul Prudhomme’s Louisiana Kitchen (1984), which you should totally own. It’s been my cornbread recipe of choice since my grandmother gave me this book when I was twelve. It contains a truly alarming amount of butter, but that’s easy to tinker with.

1 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
2/3 cup cornmeal
2/3 cup sugar (I use considerably less)
1/2 cup corn flour
5 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/3 cups milk
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 small egg, beaten

In a large bowl combine the flour, cornmeal, sugar, corn flour, baking powder, and salt; mix well, breaking up any lumps. In separate bowl combine the milk, butter and egg and add to the dry ingredients; blend just until mixed and large lumps are dissolved. Do not overbeat.

Pour mixture into a greased 8x8-inch [square!] baking pan and bake at 350 until golden brown, about 55 minutes. Remove from pan and serve immediately.

01.14.07

the cadillac in the attic

by Andrew Hudgins

After the tenant moved out, died, disappeared—
the stories vary—the landlord
walked downstairs, bemused, and told his wife,
"There's a Cadillac in the attic,"

and there was. An old one, sure, and one
with sloppy paint, bald tires,
and orange rust chewing at the rocker panels,
but still and all, a Cadillac in the attic.

He'd battled transmission, chassis, engine block,
even the huge bench seats,
up the folding stairs, heaved them through the trapdoor,
and rebuilt a Cadillac in the attic.

Why'd he do it? we asked. But we know why.
For the reasons we would do it: for the looks
of astonishment he'd never see but could imagine.
For the joke. A Cadillac in the attic!

And for the meaning, though we aren't sure what it means.
And of course he did it for pleasure,
the pleasure on his lips of all those short vowels
and three hard clicks: the Cadillac in the attic.

hopelessly devoted

My Internet addiction waxes and wanes. It is particularly bad right now. I really need to spend more time Not Online.

This realization coincides with the first week of the semester, a semester in which I’m teaching an online course about the Internets and starting a dissertation about Wikipedia and another, very old encyclopedia. I go and visit the Very Expensive Copy of the Very Old Encyclopedia, but I also spend a lot of time working with the University of Wisconsin’s digital scans.

Obviously, I need to start finding more real-world recreation and save the mouse clickin’ for work. That’s the saddest thing I ever heard.

01.13.07

Sunday Soup

Forecast

It’s like this outside.

Goat's Head Soup
So I let some boneless short ribs simmer all afternoon with some onion, garlic, and chiles.

Beautiful Soup
Then I built a soup and made some cornbread. It’s just about ready now.

bearing books

He and his sisters talked as they worked in the kitchen, six days a week, and I talked with them. They talked about the Stones concert, which was the first major act to play their city. They talked about L. breaking up with his boyfriend of six years, about the local shrink and the retinue of boys he “helped,” about the local gay bar owner burning down another new bar that dared open up. They talked about coffee versus Dr. Pepper as a morning drink and whether or not one peppermint drop dissolved in a cup of coffee was optimal. Ice cubes too? No. Drink it hot and smooth, out of a perfect brown cup. They talked about B’s drinking, and about finishing raising D’s son for her. H. was in jail again. And they talked about their momma and all she did bringing up the whole brood of them. They talked about her a lot. Momma made bread. That time he got accused of plagiarizing a poem and she gave the teacher what-for. Momma thinks this. Momma went and did that.

I liked them all, but was awkward at showing it. After six months of talking, I brought in a stack of books. Paperbacks, popular fiction, some romances. “I thought your momma might like them,” I said. “They seemed like her taste, from what you’ve told me.”

There was a pause. “She’s been dead for eight years now,” he said. Another pause. “You didn’t know that?”

“Well, no. Ya’ll talk about her in the present tense. Um, no. I’m sorry, but I didn’t know.”

“Well, I guess we do. Still, you better take those books back on home.” He turned to the bushels of lettuce head that filled the stainless steel sinks and began slamming each one on the counter, knocking the cores out and pitching them to the next section to be washed and shredded.

01.12.07

Redhead Project #58

Frush: Untitled

01.11.07

Alas, St. Clair

We first wandered into the St. Clair Broiler early one spring evening after having driven past it for a year and a half. After that first meal, we were so sorry for all the times we never stopped. It celebrated its 50th anniversary last year: half a century of crisp, smoky burgers, perfectly dressed and placed on an oblong platter with steak fries and a bumpy green pickle. All those years of proper milkshakes and pies baked on the premises, of BLTs, of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. The only decent ribs in the tundra. Plate dinners on wonderfully heavy, white plates, plates so heavy that one whack on the head would cause a concussion. Friendly staff in pleasantly stained shirts that you could tell had started off clean that morning. We went back reasonably often, but never managed to brave the five-egg omelets or the crowds on Fish Fry Fridays. There was never, ever a bad meal. It was a perfect rainy-day restaurant, a lazy afternoon restaurant, a place that could cure what ailed you.

We stopped in last night after an absence of a couple months and thought that maybe some of the staff were new. Then we noticed the new menus, which featured a hideous new clip-art logo and was bereft of my favorite veggie melt. The onion rings arrived clad in a new batter, obviously not fried in the trans-fat free oil previously touted by the joint. And the plates... they were thin, and square. They contained the world’s driest turkey melt. And the mashed potatoes were brown, festooned by sprightly tiny mushrooms and scallion ribbons. The beef medallions, never before seen on the menu, were raw.

There was a little sign on the table: under new management. Up and merged with another place from Minneapolis. Completely new staff.

We didn’t stay to see what they had done to “improve” dessert. Alas, St. Clair, we hardly knew ye.

01.09.07

Fems and Rhets 2007

Feminism(s) and Rhetoric(s) is in my hometown this year, and is being organized by two professors from my master’s program! Like Clancy says, too few conferences are held in the south. This one will be worth going to for any number of reasons, not the least of which is its proximity to the Clinton Presidential Library, which is rhetorically fascinating. Plus, if you see me there I’ll give you the native’s tour.

01.08.07

The Real Computer Monster

Featuring a very early Cookie Monster with teeth.

01.07.07

fiddling with Sparklit

I need a survey app for my Tools & Issues course this fall, so I need to decide between SurveyMonkey (which I’ve used before), Flash-Gear (not as functional as I’d like), and Sparklit, which I saw for the first time over at George’s place.

So now I’m fiddling around with Sparklit to see if it’ll suit the assignment I’m building, and I’d love to know more about my audience here. Perhaps you’ll humor me? (And if none of these descriptions suit you, please feel free to add to them in the comments. I just wrote down ten categories I know some of you fit into.)








Test-Driving Sparklit Polls


Who are all you smart, good-looking people, anyway?




  I'm a Rhet/Comp/Lit person who found you through other Rhet/Comp/Lit Blogs.  I worked with you in one of your previous professional lives. 
  I'm a Rhet/Comp/Lit person, and I started reading you after we met at a conference.  I like dogs. I like to read other people who like dogs, even if they don't write about their dog very much. 
  I'm related to you.  I followed the links from That Other Blog With the Post About Cast Fetishization. 
  I'm your drinking buddy.  I read you because I read your husband and I want to know the other half of that story. 
  I'm your art friend.  I don't know who I am or why I read you, ever. How long has this been going on? 
  I'm your colleague.    






scary

“What you’re thinking is what you’re becoming.” — Muhammad Ali

That sure as hell snapped me out of my funk.

01.05.07

on concept mapping and foundational literature

Lit map for a comps question

This is a literature map that I drew in preparation for a comps question that asked me to sketch the foundations of the field and map transitions between the periods when we called ourselves computer-mediated communication, Internet studies, and new media. It was challenging to prep for, since I knew I needed to cite the literature from 1945 forward while keeping the list to a length I could discuss in two hours. There’s nothing inherently post-worthy about that. The map isn’t comprehensive; I kept adding stuff in my mind (McLuhan, for instance) and making minor switches between areas. What’s interesting to me are two things I learned in the process.

1. I’ve always claimed that concept mapping doesn’t work for me. I’ve played around with Cmap and other, similar programs for years and even made pretty maps with them, but I didn’t find the process particularly useful or generative. (Which is not to say that I would ever discourage my students or anyone else from such things.)

When I was writing my thesis prospectus, my advisor and I staked out an empty classroom with a huge whiteboard and I wrote all over the thing while we argued. When we got done, I had a real, actual plan. The argument was part of it, but a very significant component of it was just having a huge, erasable space to fiddle with. I’ve tried to recreate that in my home study* over the past few years, writing on small whiteboards and the windows. (Since I rent and the landlord spackled the walls with stucco-ish stuff, I can’t write on my walls. Plus, I’d be too lazy to paint over it when the project was over. And it’s too permanent — half my walls would be scratched out.)

So I went out and bought a set of multi-colored, fine felt-tips and the biggest pad of newsprint I could find. I spent a morning making the thing at the top of this post. It seems that the value of mapping shows up for me when 1) I’m doing it in actual, physical handwriting and 2) there is an undefinable but sufficient amount of physical space to write on. Bright, varied color also seems central, even though that first board-map I did was just in black dry-erase marker. The act of writing it out by hand provided a clarity that I haven’t found in many other processes and seared it in my brain. When I’m babbling in a nursing home and can’t remember my own name, I’ll still be able to tell the nurses that Vannevar Bush wrote “As We May Think” and it was published in the summer of 1945 in the Atlantic. And what it has to do with Wikipedia and networked writing.

2. Some of you will probably find that last fact unfortunate for a number of reasons, some of which depend on what you value in the literature. Derek and I have been progressing in our programs at roughly the same rate for the same amount of time, and he was cool enough to post his reading lists awhile back. It’s amazing to me that two people studying in the same general area in programs that are both assumed to be in the same general field would be trained so differently. (Not superiorly or inferiorly, just differently.) Part of it, I think, is that my department has a much heavier emphasis on scientific and technical communication, which drives the social/psych and e-health emphases in my list. Part of it is that one of my Internets Advisor’s hobby horses is deep citation of the field. Part of it is just that our advisors have very different research interests, were trained in very different ways themselves, and come from slightly different academic generations.

So I’m wondering if we Rhet/Comp folks who study Internet-related topics agree on any texts that would be essential to the field? What are the things that you would expect every job candidate in this specialty to have read? I’d be surprised if someone didn’t know Bush, Licklider & Taylor, Landow, Lessig, Ong, McLuhan (but which McLuhan?), Bolter, and Turkle. I suspect that Collin and Rice would say Manovich and Selber, among other things. What else?

*When I buy a house, I am putting a classroom-sized whiteboard in the hallway outside my study, assuming it won’t fit inside.

01.04.07

The 25-cent tour of my study

Study, from northwest corner by bookcases

I’m always fascinated by photos of other people’s desks and offices, and taking pictures of my own is a most satisfying way to procrastinate. I made a set with notes for those of you who are also interested in such things.

Update: I must have been more distracted than usual yesterday, since I neglected to mention that this was inspired by Johndan’s workspace survey.

01.03.07

[untitled, at least until I find the title somewhere]

Carol Connolly

I am a full-time fraud,
passing as a poet.
It's filthy work. But
someone has to do it.
Stilted syllables
line my walls,
confusion
crowds my room
with maggoty mounds
of mediocre metaphors
ridicule lurks
in my hallway
ambitious people
take all the best lines,
and I have a headache.
I woke up with it. But
everyone wakes up
with something.