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Monday

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24
Feb 25

Is everyone all caught up?

We took a long walk yesterday, enjoying the sunshine and not-freezing temperatures. We’re in a short stretch of days with temperatures in the 50s. It’s almost like spring, but you can’t be fooled. You can, however, be happy about it, and not tricked by it. There’s still, sadly, plenty of time for more winter. We are at the point of the season where it could go one of two ways, grim acceptance, or with that seconds-old proverb: You enjoy what you get, and you get what you enjoy.

Once again, it seems the web has not recorded that phrase. I coined it. I coined it and you can’t have it.

Though I’ll tell you this, you enjoy what you get, and you get what you enjoy. And, in this case, what you enjoy is another nugget of wisdom from me, your humble correspondent.

Anyway, in the backyard, I found these these old guys just hanging on.

I haven’t even been in that part of the yard for a while, obviously. It’s not as if it’s a huge yard. It’s just, you know, winter time. But it was only coolish Sunday and so we had a nice long sunny walk. Unfortunately, and oddly, we solved none of the world’s problems on that walk.

Usually we bash out one or two of them as a matter of course.

Let us check in on the kitties, because most of you are just hear for that, anyway. Phoebe has been studying her new friends in the backyard. She stayed in this exact position for a long, long while.

Poseidon, meanwhile, was taken a bit of time off from monitoring things from his doorway view. Everybody needs a little tunnel time now and again.

In class today we talked about television. It was a rip-roaring discussing about history, game shows, international licensing rights and streaming. I might have wandered all over the place. Definitely talked to much. On Wednesday, I’ll make the students do the talking. We’re covering television in parts of Africa and Asia.

Monday / photo / Rowan — Comments Off
17
Feb 25

Welcome back

Yes, I’m aware you didn’t go anywhere, it was actually my departure several days back. But last week required even more attention than normal. I went to campus every day last week. And that’s nothing, of course. Most people have these job things. But I did that daily, and then went home where I still had to work on three-quarters of my regular weekly workload. And I also had a massive project on the side that took about 40 percent or more of the week, besides. But we’ll get to all of that.

First, since I’ve been negligent, and it was made clear that this is my fault, let’s cover the site’s most popular feature, the weekly check in with the kitties.

This is the expression you get when you aren’t holding up your end of things, by the way.

You know what to do.

When Phoebe was sufficiently satisfied that I was remedying the problem, she was able to relax and take a nap.

But our cats are big on shift changes. So while Phoebe napped, Poseidon kept an eye on me. Get the post up, he seems to be saying.

And even when I convinced him, he remained skeptical. He’s always watching.

The cat just wants to be loved, and he never gets any attention. Just ask him.

Anyway, my reaction to the cats is best expressed as Uncle Samuel L. Jackson.

Monday of last week, in my International Media class, we spent about 15 minutes talking about the Super Bowl and the halftime show. They had, of course, picked up on some of the symbolism, and they told me about some things I’d missed. I was able to share a few things that hadn’t caught up to them. It was a good way to warm up the class, and then I asked, “The Super Bowl, start to finish, including the halftime show, is one of our largest media exports. What does that show say about us to people in other parts of the world?”

And on that, I let them think. We talked last week about media and culture, and I could sense the moment where they were ready to move on, but I also know, and knew, what was coming ahead in the class. This week we’re talking about film in places like northern Indian, Saudi Arabia, France and China. All of which is a bit of cultural importation and exportation. It’s going to be a recurring theme in the class. We’re talking about media, but culture is at the heart of it all. They’ll see. Perhaps as soon as this week.

Anyway, this was much of the mood last week. Cold, distant, but improving and optimistic. Some of that is about spring, which will never arrive. And some of it was everything that demanded attention.

It was also bright, for all that had to get done. If it could get done, meaning it was all gray. Very gray. Would I get it all done? Stick around here to find out.

Until then, mind your gauges.

And keep it 600.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go present myself to an intro sports media class, for a bit of the “This is who we are and this is what we do” song and dance.

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3
Feb 25

No, I won’t complain about it for the next month

At the first of the month, I do the boring computer stuff. I clean the desktop and the downloads folder. I empty the trash. I update my boilerplate file and a spreadsheet where I chart web stats. It’s boring. It takes just a few minutes. And, on a grim and gray weekend such as this, it didn’t take long enough. But that’s done.

I stayed inside, at least until last night, when I carried the garbage can down to the end of the drive. It was 25 degrees but it somehow felt much, much colder. The pains of winter in the vain hopes of an early spring.

Back home, leaves will be budding on trees in two weeks. They’re already having temperatures in the 70s. It isn’t the winter I mind so much, it’s knowing that here, at the start of February, we still have two or more months of it.

But I’ll try not to grouse about it.

I also prepared two days of class conversations, and did some ironing. (Look how productive you can be when you don’t have to go outside!) And today I went to class and shared some of those notes and questions I’d prepared over the weekend. We are talking this week about media and culture. I’m not sure if I’ll do that very well. Next week, though, we’ll start talking about different types of media in different places, and hopefully that’ll go better.

In my campus office I sat and did work stuff, the unremarkable but necessary sort of work we all do from time-to-time. I feel like that’s what this whole week will be like.

Before I left, I stood in the window and thought the deep thoughts that one thinks while staring out the window. This is the view.

I’ve had worse views. My last one was of a parking lot, and a building that was being razed. Prior to that, there were three offices with no windows. Before that, it was the gravel lot that held the dumpsters. A few years before that I had studio offices on the top of a small mountain that looked down into the city. That was nice. But each view has its own pleasures, and this one does as well. There’s the corner neighborhood just below, but all of those trees beyond. In the middle ground, that transmitter is about half a mile away. It sits in the local electrical company’s backyard.

My mood about the weather probably isn’t helped that, everywhere I looked on the maps trying to find that transmitter, all of the road views where in June, July, September. Everything was thick, full, verdant. Warm.

Just 13 miles away from that window view, and in that same direction, is our home. When the sun gets that low it is time to head that direction. I got back just before it became truly dark. At least the days are doing their part of getting longer.

Let’s check in on the kitties, who remind me that I’m contractually obligated to point out are the most popular weekly feature on the site. That spreadsheet I mentioned proves it.

Phoebe has been enjoying the midday sun in the dining room. It’s a popular spot just now. Not a bad place to spend your afternoons.

Poseidon usually sits with me in the mornings, but I found myself on the sofa in the early afternoon recently and he took the opportunity to maximize his lap time.

Lap time is very important around here.

Tomorrow, I’ll go back to campus. Two days in a row!

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27
Jan 25

Luke is Joe, until he finally gets to play himself

I’m not going to upload the whole Guster concert we saw Friday night, but there are maybe two or three other little bits I want to highlight. This was the beginning of their second version of the “We Also Have Eras Tour.” We saw them on the first leg of this tour, last march in Baltimore. We also saw them last May in a live radio concert. Obviously we were going to see them again. We’ve now seen the boys from Tufts three times in the last 10 months. I can’t wait to see them again.

This one takes a little context. Which I guess is perfect and confusing since the silly conceit of this tour is they are acting (to critical acclaim) their life story. So, context. Guster started, in 1991, as a three piece, guitarists Ryan Miller and Adam Gardner and percussionist Brian Rosenworcel, the Thunder God. In 2003 Joe Pisapia, a multi-instrumentalist, songwriter and producer joined the band. He stayed in the group, and added a lot, until he left to play in k.d. lang’s band in 2010. So, at this point in the concert, they’re in that period. But Pisapia isn’t there. The part of Joe Pisapia is played by Luke Reynolds, who joined the band when Pisapia departed. When he first comes on stage in this show, he’s holding a giant picture of Pisapia over his face. He wears a name tag that says “Joe” on it during that part of the show. It’s dorky and tongue-in-cheek and great. Everyone is in on the joke.

So this is Reynolds, with the banjo, playing as Pisapia. He and Miller are pretending to re-enact the creation of one of their most popular numbers and, because of the magic of show business, it comes together for us here fully formed. This is “Jesus on the Radio,” which is always referenced on March 16th, since March 16th figures into the song.

Only, there’s a lot going on here in this particular performance. Reynolds is obviously losing his voice. It’s January. Miller knows it. The sound person knows it. Most people in the crowd probably didn’t catch this, but I heard it: Miller picks up some of the slack and the booth made some quick adjustments to their mic levels. And then when Gardner joins in, they change the layering in the chorus. This is all done on the fly.

Let’s check in on the cats, who have entered another noir era for this week’s installment of the site’s most popular feature.

Phoebe was catching a nice little nap in the 1 o’clock hour.

Same spot, a few days later, and almost down to the minute, I found Poseidon doing the same thing.

So, clearly, I’m the one with the routine.

(Bonus point for you if you see Phoebe in the background.)

In class today I demonstrated that the students don’t want me lecturing all semester. I did this by … lecturing for a full class session. Today we talked about globalization, and the history of cities, and a little about how each helps the other. And this will get us started down our path for the semester. A path that, I hope, they’ll lead the way on, conversationally.

The class was great today. A third or more of them were chipper and chiming right in. A few others sprinkled in some ideas, as well. Next week, we start talking about media and culture. And then we’re off to the races, examining various kinds of media from different places around the world.

I hope it all works out half as well as I’ve imagined it. In the the imagined version, a few students who took the class as a pure elective tell me they’ve been so inspired that they’ve changed their major. Others say they’ve had a vote and decided I am the Cool Professor. They’ll tell me this class was gas. That I left no crumbs. I will accept the gesture, but politely decline the gift they’ve all chipped in for. And, besides, being the Cool Professor is a great honor. It’ll go on my vita, I tell them. Right at the top, in fact. Instead, of a gift, just tell all of your friends about the class. And they do. And, eventually, it becomes so popular that they have to move it into one of those giant auditorium settings. Each semester it grows, becomes more intriguing, and more innovative. And then one day, a former student from this class comes back, now a cross-cultural pioneer in some as yet unrealized medium, and they guest lecture in the course. They say it started for them, right here. And they feel so indebted that they still want to give me that gift. By then, my career is winding down and I’ve become so popular that accepting a gift doesn’t seem problematic anymore. I figure maybe they’re going to give me a new prototype of their newest technological innovation. Or make a sizable donation to the university in my name, and my name goes on a building somewhere. But, then, my former student and now friend and global media pioneer says, No, the alumnus says. In 2025 we bought you a granola bar. And I’ve held onto it since then. Here it is, your 20-year-old thank you.

So, yeah, if it works out half as well as that, I’d be pleased.

After class I completed the impossible and Herculean task of putting office hours on the office door.

And then I went to the UPS store. Now there’s a tale …

I walked in because I had to return some poster frames I bought. I had to return the poster frames because I bought the wrong size poster frames. I need 24 x 32 and I bought 18 x 24. Not an original story.

I walked into the UPS store bracing myself for a line, because some part of my brain just thought it’d be like the USPS. But let me tell you, there was no one in the UPS store. When I opened the door the bell rang or the ding donged or whatever, and one of the guys came out of the back.

What can I do for you, boss?

This is now the second person that’s called me boss in the last 72 hours.

“I need to return this box and I’m sure you can tell me what to do from there.”

He has by then picked up his scanner, punched three buttons he hits dozens of times a day and scans the code I have shown him on my phone. His printer spits out a label faster than the sound from the scanner dies in the room. Seriously, you could still hear an “ep” and he had the thing in his hand.

OK, he said.

“It still has the label on the — ”

I’ll cover it with this one. Have a great day, boss.

And that was that.

So then I went to a gas station. Now there’s a tale! I’m going to save that one for another day.

cycling / Monday / video — Comments Off
20
Jan 25

No one saw that

We stayed indoors all weekend, because it was cold all weekend. That bitter, real winter sort of cold. It snowed Sunday evening, beginning a little later than expected and ended right on time. The cats were very much interested in the snow this time and I said, fine. Let me put on a jacket and some shoes.

They were not impressed with it for very long.

Ours are strictly indoor cats. Occasionally, one of them will time a door right and run outside, only to hide under a nearby bush. The other doesn’t try to sneak out a lot, but when she does, she’s off like a shot. So they know, basically, the front porch and one corner of the back of the house. Poseidon went that way, his favorite way around the back, and didn’t even make it to his rose bushes. Phoebe went the opposite way, to the right. I don’t know if either of them have ever gone that way. And you could see that she wanted to go back inside. The door should be over here, somewhere. But I think, all of it being unfamiliar and ridiculously cold besides, she lost track of where the door was. So I stopped recording and took her in. Poe was happy to see the door open, too.

These professional cuddlers and cover stealers are no match for mother nature.

When the snow ended the expert indicated we should go out and shovel, because it was the wet kind of snow and it would otherwise be trouble tomorrow. So there we were, 8 p.m. last night, hoping the neighbor’s little boy wasn’t already asleep so we wouldn’t disturb him with the “shhhhh shhhhhk shhhh shhhhhhk” sounds of winter.

But the driveway got cleared. Once again, enough to shovel, not enough to try the snowblower, which is doing it’s job of keeping real snowfalls far, far away from our driveway.

Today, the Canada geese flew over. I caught the tale end of the flock.

After which, I noticed there was a patch of snow right there on the road at the foot of our drive. Wouldn’t want anyone to have a problem with that as they passed by. So I set out to take care of that. Parka, because it’s cold. Hat, because same. Sunglasses, because of the reflective snow. Boots, because I have them. And three-quarters of the way down the drive I slipped on the ice. The shovel went to the left and back. My glasses went to the right and back, after scratching my nose and eyebrow. My body went back, and so did my head, right on the cement. Ker-ploof. Because my head no longer makes kerthunk noises.

So I was sprawled on the driveway for about six seconds, and then I said aloud, “Get up.” I rolled to my right, on a knee, and sat like that for a few moments to make sure I was ready and prepared. To stand up. On the ice. The micron-thin layer of which I’d just fallen on. The part that my lovely bride shoveled last night.

My part of the driveway was perfectly fine, by the way. And so was I. Once I got up I had to carefully navigate retrieving the shovel and glasses, but eventually I had them both in hand. At the street, I saw the snow was a hard-packed layer thinner than your favorite frosting on your favorite treat. It wasn’t going anywhere. And neither was my headache.

I kid. I’m fine. I’ll feel this tomorrow. But I was fine enough to have a 32-mile bike ride this evening. I did a course which just lapped me around one big hill over and over. Ten laps. I grew to hate that hill. It started with a sprint, and then a slight ramp, before nice little incline, which flatted out, turned left, and then gave you the real thing. And before you got into the downhill you were going back up again. Finally, you floated into the decent, to the left, and then the right, and the right, and the right some more. And then that sprint again.

Ten times.

On my last lap, though, I set three PRs. One for the lap itself. One for the climb, by just one-tenth of a second. And then I trimmed down the sprint by three seconds to end the thing.

If you think doing anything in laps is tedious, try it on a video game, in your basement, in the dead of winter.