Kaboom
I had a wonderful time at Kaboom last year, the highlight of which being Grace Potter and the Nocturnals and an awesome rendition of White Rabbit. Had an enjoyable time with a friend who I’d not seen in years, and she described a visual stop motion experience where an old couch left of the side of the road for pick up gradually disintegrated over a period of time, and that by the time she had thought to get a camera, the carcase that remained was not a good starting point for this study.
Ever since my first blog, ever, which I refuse to take down and edit sparingly because not only was it my first blog, it was the first time I had the stones to do something like this, and it was pretty much stream of consciousness stuff of how I felt about writing, and how I thought a blog should be, no single piece has stayed static. A good deal of cruft has been cut out, and there’s a number of fair passable pieces that I’m not ashamed to have on my front lawn, and the nice thing about this job is that on the way home after work in the dark cavernous depths of this machine wherein lie the miscarried, orphaned, vivisected but never discarded carcasses of stuff that will never see the light of day but contain within their malformed guts certain fungible nuggets – a clause here and there, the odd paragraph, an odd line of thought, then if it is sunny like today, and the muse takes me then I might dally and use my mallet to correct a crooked spline, buff up a dull metaphor, excise some pettiness and generally tart up the old front lawn.
I thought about this couch thing, and how my pieces would warp and flow over a period of time. Just like Google will let me see whose been doing what on my blogs at a fine enough level of granularity that a moving glyph will show such arcana as page views and clicks, it would be nice if they had a movable eyeglass on the same scale that showed not just a nicely colored diff, but words changing in sentences, sentences changing in context, paragraphs shifting shape and position, and bad juju being squeezed out at the edges as I obsessively revisit posts and tart them up.
This is a personal indulgence, since the information that is currently available to me is depressingly Spartan when it comes to anyone else reading my stuff (Boo hoo). But, it would be a help to me if I could actually test my hypothesis that as time extends and my memory recedes that some of the older pieces have reached a dynamic equilibrium where a unit as small as a word or a punctuation will oscillate between two or three stable states like a rusted weathervane out on my lawn that
