rant, with some bad words...

| | Comments (3)

My blog entry box is peppered with unpublished entries. It's the result of brain ramblings during a 40 minute walk to work mashing into RSS NPR and email. Things come together in strange ways, then something happens, I get side tracked, and never publish.

Lots of things banged together today. A colleague wrote and asked if I'd read McLuhan's the medium is the Massage. I had, years ago; and knew it as I spoke of it- the medium is the message. I know that isn't spelled like the title is, but that's what they meant and what they talk about. The whole "massage" thing, as I recall, was a misprint. It was the sixties, after all. McLuhan and Fiore came up with a providential back-story to explain it.

And it turns out that the medium—a book—is the message here. They're fairly permanent, long lived, hard to change and update, live in locked away spaces, and you have to adapt your story to what and how they've communicated. How archaic.

Before I was married, I lived in town across from Schlow Library. A good morning to me was walking across the street and rambling from book to book, finding one thing and following it to another. Illustration jobs forced me to find more current information, and I had to go read in a book store, but libraries were still fun. I still enjoy it, but it takes so long. And sometimes, people actually remove the books, take them home for their own use, and leave me with a dead link.

I love books. The way they feel, the way they look. You don't plug them in or change their batteries. but damn it, when what you want is the information, books can be like gum on a sidewalk. And how do you know if they're wrong? There's no versioning... are you allowed to make corrections in the margins? How about if you use pencil? I bet I could even add illustrations if I was allowed.


Cole said:

Not the post you had originally planned I suspect, but a post nonetheless ... I found myself in a similar funk today as I worked to reconcile many connected thoughts. I say connected, but in reality these thoughts are only tied together in the strangest of ways. I think I get the undercurrent here -- books are static, yet very familiar. The new world in which we pretend to understand is fluid and uncomfortable. Am I wrong in this?

Hey, we're all trying to figure it out.

Cole said:

BTW, I enjoyed the late afternoon conversation. I needed it.

dave said:

Good analysis Cole.

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