Linda Stone, formerly of Apple and Microsoft, has coined the term "continuous partial attention" to describe life in the era of e-mail, instant messaging, cellphones, and other distractions. This curious feature of modern life poses a problem for a someone like me. Every thing that I do that's worth doing requires ALL my attention.

I cannot put it any better than Donald Knuth, who writes on his website, "Email is a wonderful thing for people whose role in life is to be on top of things. But not for me; my role is to be on the bottom of things. What I do takes long hours of studying and uninterruptible concentration. "

Knuth also provides the following quote from Umberto Eco: "I don't even have an e-mail address. I have reached an age where my main purpose is not to receive messages."


I found these quotes and the super-quote containing all of them on Neil Stephenson's website. Reading them made a few firework go off in my head (damnit, I tried several times to write that without using a cliche and I couldn't think of anything quickly enough), first, because the term "continuous partial attention" was a zinger description. Second, it took many thoughts that I've been juggling and wrapped them into a perfect little paragraph, better-said than I could have without strained effort.

I will continue to try to let things and people wait until I've accomplished what I need and want to. Civilization has proceeded in its jerky stop-animation for thousands of years without me. I need to concentrate on myself and work for it.

mood: dry-mouth
music: a patchwork of lyrics and blended melodies

http://www.chron.com/cs/CDA/ssistory.mpl/front/2621567

An excerpt:

In the latest twist, it's the radio stations themselves that have been reaching out to the labels, offering to play songs in the form of ads, often in the early morning hours when there tends to be an excess inventory of airtime. The practice is legal as long as the station makes an on-air disclosure of the label's sponsorship — typically with an introduction such as "And now, Avril Lavigne's Don't Tell Me, presented by Arista Records."

To be sure, Don't Tell Me is a bona fide hit, even without spins being bought and paid for. Radio stations must play a song many thousands of times for it to crack the Billboard top 10. Nonetheless, a few hundred spins here and there can move a song up a place or two in the rankings — and ensure that it is climbing rather than falling on the charts.

( Full Text Here in Case it Gets Deleted )


I think the public opinion of the recording industry is even lower than Dubya's is...at least for people under twenty, who either can't or don't care to vote anyway.

mood: dehydrated
music: Josie and the Pussycats - "3 Small Words"

Recently, all of my best ideas have come while in the shower.

I'm thinking about buying some soap crayons so I can write everything on the wall so I don't forget it by the time I finish shampooing my hair.

It feels so good to have Josie and the Pussycats (among every-bloody-thing else I've been missing for months, I'm just presently listening to Josie) back in my music collection. Glover copied over all of shasradio over onto zordac's new portable enclosed harddrive last weekend when we went down for their housewarming and beautiful surprise announcement. Having my music again feels like finding my favorite pair of blue jeans after having lost them for a year and discovering that they still fit.

Had a small poker game that ballooned into a sizable group. Was good fun.

One of the things about Oxford (being a college town that tends to collect some of the cool people and turn them into locals) that you just have to get used to when you live here is current of friends. Sometimes the tide brings new friends or returns old ones and sometimes the tide flows outward and it feels like everyone is moving away. And sometimes old ones return just in time for new ones to leave. I guess after living here so long, it's just something that you accept, very Zen-like, like you feel the world's impermanence but value both the things in front of you and the things far away.

mood: cold
music: Josie and the Pussycats - "Shapeshifter"

I have returned from the Caribbean and my skin is already peeling. I told Captain Jack Sparrow that you all said hello.

The trip was very...freeing for me. Anonymity slowly filled me with courage so I wore shorts and swimsuits and skirts, you know, in public. I had to get over my shyness. I would have died of heatstroke if I hadn't. It was no time to be meek or worried about what other people thought of me. I wasn't going to let my embarrassment stop me from enjoying myself.

So I after the first day, I shrugged off my concerns and my long pants. And I swam at the most gorgeous beaches I've ever seen (I'm not a fan of sand) and went snorkeling (I'm afraid of swimming anywhere that there's fish lurking under the surface) and loved every moment of it. The difference was that I could see all the way to the bottom even where I couldn't touch.

I always told myself that I wouldn't enjoy a trip to the Caribbean because I'm not much of a beach person. Well all that changed. These aren't normal beaches. I still love craggy, cliffy, unswimmable coastlines, but I've fallen in love with the tropical ones now, too.

Since I've been back, I've had a relaxing day and or so to enjoy my own bed again, but now I'm off to grab some lunch and head to work.

This is going to be a fun summer. I can tell already.

And a productive one, too. Funny how feeling pretty and strong and free makes me feel capable and productive and energetic.

I think it's the red paint on my toenails. I can feel the fire seeping into my soul.

mood: motivated
music: The Kinks - "Lola"

It is unexpectedly pleasant to have singing in the house.

When Brooke comes over, she often sings and often sings songs that I know the words to.

One night when we had a small gathering of friends over, several of us were on the front porch, with the torches lit, rocking in the chairs and the glider.

Brooke and I started singing several songs from For the Boys.

That started it all. Now there's always a bit of music in the air, humming or whistling.

Tonight she and Kirk harmonized a smattering from about a dozen different musicals, The Music Man, The Sound of Music, Cabaret, The Phantom of the Opera, Oklahoma!, several others I can't recall at the moment, and even some familiar du-wop songs.

It gives the whole evening a feel-good, comfortable sigh, warm-fuzzy feeling.

Tonight I just lay my head back on the arm of the loveseat and listened, my feet on the other arm pushing my knees up close to my chest. It reminds me of singing with my mom and sister back when I lived at home, unbashful, without any self-consciousness.

Or times that my whole group of friends would spend the entire night on the beaches of Sardis, campfire or no, and sing, heads on each others shoulders or in laps, wrapped up in over-sized blankets.

mood: Ahhhhhhhh....
music: A Jumble of Intertwined Musical Numbers.