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Can You Read Me Now?

Posted by Tim at 18:30 on 2011/07/12
Jul 122011

You know those people who balance reading glasses half-way down their noses? Yeah, as much as it pains me to admit this, I’m one of those. My eyes aren’t what they used to be [and they didn't used to be all that great, to tell the truth].

So I was delighted a while back when Jon Strother [of #FridayFlash fame] mentioned a tool called Readability. Among other things, Readability provides a free add-on for your browser that will, “With one click, turn any webpage into a clean, comfortable reading view.” Suddenly all those blinky, beepy, flashy ads, banners, and badges crowded around the stamp-sized area holding the content that drew me there are eliminated while I read. All the sites with too-small text or too-little contrast between text and background are clear.

I installed it. I love it. I use it a lot. I recommend it. And recently, because of some behind-the-scenes tech work I’m doing for another site [which some of you might guess, but I'm not going to go into right now] I learned about some of the newer features from Readability. As a result, I have installed some of their code right here on this very site.

Now let me pause for a moment to say that I try from the get-go to make sites I work on easy to read. I routinely use dark text on a light background and frequently increase the default text size. [I don't have to wear my cheaters to read my own site.] I limit extraneous elements. Still, with Readability you can choose the font, size, and color-combination that you prefer when you read all the pithy or funny or heart-rending prose and poetry that you’ve come to expect from me.

So, if you’re viewing this as a single post [did I mention that Readability is designed to work with single posts?], and not using a feed reader or looking at the home page you should see the Readability tool just below my byline up there. I’ve installed it with three options: Read Now, Read Later, and Send to Kindle.

Read Now does what the browser add-on has always done, grabs the content from the post and renders it in a window with your custom settings. Read Later [subscription required*] adds the page to your personal reading list so you can pull it up later. Save to Kindle, well that should be pretty obvious. I don’t have a Kindle [yet]. Since that option is also free, I would love it if someone that does have a Kindle would try that and let me know how well it works for you.

Again, I don’t think you need Readability to read my site; I actually rather hope you don’t. But I’ll certainly understand if you want to, especially if you are sending to Kindle or if you subscribe to take advantage of saving posts [or some other premium options]. At this point, I have only one reservation. Because publishers earn a contribution each time Readability is used to read one of their pages, they have no incentive to embrace better design principles so readers don’t need such a tool. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if some pages got worse to drive traffic that way. [Yes, my eyes are failing, but my cynicism is healthier than ever.] I can only promise you that I will never EVER do that on my site. On the other hand, I’m sure their intent is that publishers need to make their content so compelling that readers will want to use a tool like Readability to manage their reading list with a consistent look and feel. I aspire to have compelling content.

*Note: Read Later [and other premium services] is available only to paid Readability subscribers.
Disclosure: I am a registered publisher so I may earn a small percentage of subscription fees if you use Readability on my site. I will never get rich from this. In fact, due to the way they calculate and pay commissions, I will probably never earn a penny from this.

Tweeting Through Time

Posted by Tim at 16:44 on 2011/07/05
Jul 052011

I wrote about some of my Twitter experiences a couple months ago. I’ve played around a bit with a few different interfaces including Rockmelt, Tweetdeck, Hootsuite, and Twitter’s own standard web page.

I find Rockmelt too distracting. I like keeping my social media in a separate tab or window. I often keep Twitter open while I’m reading Friday Flash because I am following and retweeting links as I go. And I have a small [and irregular] amount of time to dedicate to social media. Otherwise, I keep away from social media when I’m working on my computer.

Lately I’ve been going back and forth between Tweetdeck and Hootsuite and they both have features I like. One thing they have in common is the ease of monitoring lists and threads on a single screen. And they both have custom interfaces for the Chrome browser which has been my browser-of-choice for a while now. For me, it’s pretty much a toss-up on these two with one exception: scheduling tweets.

Keep in mind, I was a reluctant tweeter to begin with. It was the sense of community and the conversations that drew me in. Scheduling tweets felt antithetical to those experiences. [In that other post I commented on how scheduled tweets stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of trending news.] And I have unfollowed people that I think abused the practice. [Seriously, the same link every 30 minutes? Get over yourself.]

As a test though, I recently scheduled tweets for a couple posts. I wrote a humor post [which fell flat, but more on that perhaps some other time] and scheduled tweets to promote it. Those tweets were rather cryptic and apparently not very compelling because my site traffic did not increase much. My most recent flash piece on the other hand generated more traffic and more comments than I’ve seen in a long time.

The allure of the time travel subject, which is a bit different for me, may be a factor. The holiday weekend here in the US may be a factor. One thing that really leads me to believe the scheduled tweets were a significant factor is that I scheduled them for all day Friday and Sunday but not on Saturday. The traffic to my site was high on Friday and Sunday and StatCounter reports that most of that traffic came from Twitter. [I suppose it could be people travelling back in time from a future post....]

I scheduled those tweets two hours apart. I guessed that was often enough to get a fair amount of exposure and infrequently enough to avoid being one of those annoying gnats like the ones I unfollowed. That seems to have worked out about right.

What interface do you use for Twitter? What features do you like/use the most? Do you schedule tweets? How often do you promote a post, a book, or another project?

The n-Body Problem

Posted by Tim at 17:51 on 2011/06/30
Jun 302011

Patty Summerhill entered Julie Newcomb’s laboratory and stopped short. Every horizontal surface in the room was stacked with computer printouts and hand-written notes on Post-its, take-out menus, and used napkins. Every millimeter of wall space was covered with mathematical formulas and sketches of spirals and ellipses.

Newcomb perched on a stool in front of a large bank of computer monitors, her fingers flying over a keyboard. Lacking a diplomatic way to tell her colleague that she looked like hell, Summerhill told her that in just so many words. Not that it mattered; Newcomb wasn’t listening anyway. So Summerhill placed a call to IT and had them remotely lock the computer system.

Newcomb shrieked a string of expletives no one has heard before or since. Summerhill quickly assured her that all her work was backed up on both a local and remote server and that, by contract, she was to take a ten minute break every two hours. A not-so-subtle suggestion to get some rest during the imposed downtime was promptly ignored. Instead, Newcomb pulled a palm-top computer from her pocket and became engrossed in another calculation as she paced a tight figure eight. (Newcomb would have insisted it was a lemniscate.) Summerhill decided to risk interrupting again.

“Julie, this doesn’t look like your primary research.” No response. In a louder voice, “What is all this?”

“Time travel.”

“Time travel? Are you kidding?”

Newcomb stopped pacing. “I don’t kid. I’ve already worked out the basic formula.” Then she glared at the locked terminal. “All but a few final calculations.” She said it matter-of-factly.

“Really?” Summerhill’s voice rose in surprise and admiration.

“Really.”

“But how?”

Summerhill’s PhDs in physics and mathematics were no match for Newcomb who had thrice that number of advanced degrees. Newcomb considered Summerhill to be on the low end of the bell curve. She dropped the palm-top on an already precariously-balanced stack of papers and pointed at the graffiti on the nearest wall.

“It’s time and space,” she began. “We’re moving at over 450 meters per second due to the earth’s rotation. That’s at the equator and has to be adjusted for latitude. At the same time, the earth is orbiting the sun at nearly 30 kilometers per second while our solar system is whipping around the Milky Way at over 240 kilometers per second and so on — to infinity… if the universe is infinite. My calculations use values that are far more precise, of course.

“I’ve determined that there is a fixed point around which everything — and I mean everything — else revolves. Archimedes said he could move the earth with a lever if he had a place to stand. But he also would have needed a fixed point for the fulcrum.”

“Not to mention a really long pole for the lever,” Summerhill interjected. The withering look from Newcomb indicated she did not appreciate the interruption or the attempt at humor.

Newcomb went on. “By calculating movement in relation to that fixed point I can ‘leverage’ an object either forward or backward in time. And,” she turned to a long equation on the opposite wall, “I have found the universe’s stationary point. Anyway, here wasn’t here until right now so to move to here back in time we also have to calculate where here was then. Likewise, if we want to move forward in time we have to calculate where here will be then. Otherwise you’re likely to end up somewhere… unpleasant, like far outside the earth’s atmosphere or at the sun’s corona, for example. All I need is the location of the fixed point and the locations of where/when I want to move to and from.” She looked at Summerhill again as if expecting a stupid question and was not disappointed.

“So it’s an infinite n-Body calculation, right? You know, there’s a common misconception that n-Body calculations are impossible to solve. How are you validating your data?”

Newcomb sighed heavily. “First, yes. It’s an infinite n-Body calculation. I just said that. Second, unsolvable is simply ridiculous. They’re only impossible to solve if your knowledge of math is limited to vector calculus. And third, I’ve already moved single atoms and some organic molecules forward and backward in time. That’s more validation than you’ll get from any mere theoretician. My calculations now are extrapolating the equation to increase the size of the nth body to include my body.” She glared again at the locked computer.

Summerhill was a bit dumbfounded, but decided that further discussion would be fruitless. She insisted that Newcomb maintain the break schedule and suggested she either rest or get something to eat until the system was unlocked. Instead Newcomb grabbed the palm-top and resumed pacing.

The next morning Summerhill decided to look in on Newcomb’s lab on the way to her office. As she approached the building she heard a loud humming that built to a crescendo followed by a flash of light. She opened the door to an empty lab with bare, white walls. An odd feeling that something was not right crept through Summerhill and she couldn’t remember why she had wandered into the empty space. “I’m just getting old, I guess,” she muttered to herself. “At least there was no one around to see me wandering about like a fool.”

Dr. Patty Summerhill returned to her office with the oddest thought echoing through her head. “When I got there, there wasn’t any there there.” She has no idea what that means….

.

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The Taf Lesson

Posted by Tim at 06:00 on 2011/05/27
May 272011

Every class has at least one of these kids — slouched in the back of the class with a know-it-all smirk on his face. I knew he would interrupt before I got more than two sentences into the lesson.

“The Taf are the first, and so far the only, intelligent extra-terrestrial life we have found in over eleven-hundred years of deep-space exploration,” I began. The smart-ass in the back already had his hand up. “Yes?” I sighed a bit more audibly than I probably should have.

“I assume you’re using ‘intelligent’ as a relative term. I mean, the Taf aren’t really very bright, are they?” His insolence spread a small wave of laughter across the classroom.

“Well,” I took a breath, “since this class is an introduction to what we have learned from the Taf so far I’d like you to keep an open mind and maybe you’ll be surprised at what you learn.”

“I promise to be surprised if I learn anything,” he countered. More laughter.

“No more surprised than I.” I got a few laughs of my own and several deep ‘Oooohhhss’ and I quickly continued before things got further out of hand. “Of course, just as with translating between human languages some things are bound to be lost in translation between languages from different planets. Not the least of the problems is that the Taf language does not distinguish between past and future tenses. They have a present tense to describe what currently exists or what they currently experience. They have another tense for what does not currently exist or they are not currently experiencing. This was over-simplified by most Earth media outlets as an ‘out-of-sight, out-of-mind’ mentality on par with human infants. This was a leading cause of the widespread and mistaken belief that the Taf aren’t very bright.” I resisted the urge to put emphasis on the word mistaken.

“It’s actually very similar to several Earth religions and philosophies that teach living in the moment. The present is all that exists. What was and what may or may not be aren’t real so why worry about or expend energy on them? The Taf language seems to have developed in parallel with their philosophy making the need for separate past and future tenses unnecessary. But this is still a greatly simplified explanation and over the next several weeks we’ll delve more deeply into their language and customs.”

I looked around the classroom. I knew from experience that by this point about two-thirds of them would be hooked and the other third were either still on the fence or already a lost cause. I took it as a good sign that the smart-ass wasn’t interrupting even though he still wore that stupid smirk. I thought I had him on the fence.

“There was quite a stir in the scientific community trying to determine whether the Taf expressed an interest that they would visit Earth or claimed they already had visited Earth. The fact is, there is some evidence they might have been to Earth before. We’re still not sure.” This pulled a few more students off the fence to my side. There’s nothing like an alien invasion to grab popular interest. “And, of course, if they have been to Earth before that means their knowledge and technology is vastly superior to our own.”

I outlined the course content, assigned some reading and dismissed the class a little early. The lost causes bolted for the door while most of the rest of the students chatted and drifted out in small groups. Smart-ass remained in his seat. The last few students, realizing there might be another battle brewing beat a hasty retreat. I’m pretty sure they remained just outside the door though, listening.

“I think this class is stupid,” he finally said.

“Does that mean you’re not coming back?”

“I need the credit for my major. I have to come back.”

“Well, good. I hope you’ll remember what I said about keeping an open mind, but a skeptical attitude is okay. It should make for more interesting discussions. Few things are more boring than a class full of passive students.”

“I think this class is stupid,” he repeated.

I considered whether I should bother trying to explain the difference between opinion and fact, but decided that would have been too antagonistic. “You had to take calculus class, right?”

“Yup.”

“What grade did you get?”

“I got an A.”

“Did everyone in the class get an A?”

“Hell no. That’s a hard class.”

“Some of the students failed the class?”

“Sure.”

“I bet some of those kids that failed the class said that calculus is stupid.”

He hesitated a beat, but answered, “Yeah….”

“Did you ever hear any of the kids that got an A say that calculus is stupid?”

Bless him, he fought it, but his smirk curled into a half-smile. “No.”

“Well, then. I’ll see you in class next week.”

“Or did you see me in class last week?” This time without the smirk.

“I am enjoying having you in my class.” As the Taf would say.

.

While you’re here, please take a moment to read this. Jim Bronyaur will be bringing his blog tour here on 10 June.

.

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He Out-Bopped the Buzzard and the Oriole

Posted by Tim at 12:32 on 2011/05/02
May 022011

I was a late-comer to Twitter. [Call me slow, sometimes.] I still think that “What are you doing?” was [is] stupid and inane and that Twitter was a wasteland until it matured to its “What’s Happening?” phase. It looked to me like a huge, disorganized chat room — and I have never enjoyed chat rooms. [I quite understand if you disagree with me, especially if you were an early adopter.] I read technology and education blogs that hailed Twitter as the next big thing with glowing examples of how they had tweeted questions and gotten reliable answers faster than if they had blogged the question. I read the articles about unresponsive companies suddenly becoming models of customer service when a tweet from a dissatisfied customer cascaded exponentially across the twitterverse. Still, it didn’t seem like the right place for me.

I joined Twitter specifically and solely for participating in #FridayFlash. I followed several dozen writers and spent a couple hours on weekends tweeting links to my fiction and retweeting links to others that I liked. [Can we say "like" when talking about Twitter or is that just for FB?] For about a year, that was the limit of my Twitter participation.

I will never be one of those people who has a lopsided follow:follower ratio like 1:1000. On the other hand, I have never tweeted something like, “I am x followers away from some big round number y. Who’s going to put me over the top?” [And I promise I never will, because it's not about the numbers.] But I was smugly pleased that I had more followers than I was following — even though both numbers were in the very low hundreds, extremely small by Twitter standards. Even at that, tweets sometimes flowed past faster than I could read them or pick out useful information.

I explored other tools and interfaces for Twitter [which will be the topic of another post]. Some interesting things happened when I got better organized and more acclimated to the twitterverse. I spent more time there instead of just a few hours on weekends. I began to engage in small conversations [the only kind practical in 140 characters, he smirked] outside of exchanging #FridayFlash links. I began following writers, editors, and publishers outside the #FridayFlash community. Some of them followed me back, but not enough to maintain my positive ratio. [But that's okay, because it's not about the numbers.]

I’m sorry I have not personally thanked everyone who follows me. On the other hand, I have never DMed someone to say, “Thanks for following me and here’s a link to where you can buy my books.” [And I promise I never will. Frankly, I think it's rude. I know how to follow the links in your profile and comment stream to find your products, thank you very much.] But I have joined a larger, more diverse, and more interesting community.

I started the first draft of this post a couple weeks ago. Last night I witnessed something remarkable. It was the first time I was on Twitter when a major news story broke. [I don't consider who won some show biz award or the score of a sports contest to be major breaking news, despite the frantic posting that accompanies those events.] It started with a trickle of tweets asking if anyone knew why President Obama had scheduled a press briefing. Immediately there were speculation and rumors about the subject. For about two hours I was mesmerized watching the events unfold.

In the background, I had the TV on a major US broadcast network. The news about Bin Laden’s death was widespread on Twitter a good 15 or 20 minutes before my TV even reported that there was to be a news conference. And as the news conference was delayed, the Twitter stream swelled to a flood. It was an interesting mish-mash of fact, rumor, speculation, humor, cynicism, patriotism, fear, sorrow, and joy. Mixed in were several tweets that apparently had been pre-scheduled. [Either that, or the authors had to be hopelessly clueless or incredibly self-absorbed.] That mundane self-promotion stuck out amid the political commentary. I suppose it shouldn’t have, but I thought it made the authors look foolish. Worse though [to me], were the participants in the conversation who still thought it appropriate to plug their latest post or project. That looked crass.

I’m still adjusting my expectations of Twitter and figuring out where it fits in my online life. I still think that a significant portion of what gets tweeted is cheap and superficial, but that’s okay. I see a lot more potential in it now than I ever have. [Call me slow, sometimes.]

I Have a Point, at Least

Posted by Tim at 03:52 on 2011/03/29
Mar 292011

A recent post about language use [on another site] included the statements:

The English language is in flux. It always has been (at least since its inception), and it always will be (at least until its extinction).

That sounds wrong to me and I posted that in a comment. Can a language (or anything else) be in flux before its inception or after its extinction?

It was off-topic for the post, but the author kindly took the time to reply, “The sentence in question does not communicate the ideas you assign to it…. That says exactly what I meant: The language has been in flux since it began and will continue to be so until it ends.”

Another reader followed up with, “…the sentence is arguably ambiguous. One way of reading ‘at least since its inception’ is that there is an implied possibility of ‘more,’ which would be ‘from before its inception.’” Which, thank you, is exactly what I meant.

If I were to say that I have been crossing the street by myself (at least since I was ten years old) then I might well have been even younger. The “at least” implies the time might extend beyond (meaning younger than) the age I stated. If I were to say that my new bike cost a lot of money (at least $10) then it may have cost more than $10. Saying “at least” implies an inner limit, not an outer limit. To me.

I understand what the writer meant. I actually understood it the first time I read it. But it stills sounds wrong to me. I’m not saying that his phrasing is grammatically or linguistically incorrect. I do, however, think that his later statement, “The language has been in flux since it began and will continue to be so until it ends.” is the one that says exactly what he meant.

What do you think? Anyone else care to weigh in?

Lost in Spaces

Posted by Tim at 03:43 on 2011/02/09
Feb 092011

There’s an old joke [a blond joke I think, but that's not really relevant] about a new secretary that was typing a memo for her boss. She would press one key and then press space. Then she would press another key followed by a space. Observing this, her boss asked her why. “You told me to double-space everything,” she explained. [Insert uproarious laughter here.]

Farhad Manjoo recently posted an article on Slate, Space Invaders – Why you should never, ever use two spaces after a period, that was tweeted and posted to Facebook by several editor and publisher people I follow. I don’t think the use of space has garnered this much attention since Star Wars. [Insert pun-induced groans here.] My initial reaction was, “Lighten up for heaven’s sake.” [I might have phrased it a little differently at the time.] After taking some time to ponder and research, I think Mr. Manjoo may have intended the piece to be humorous all along in which case too many people took it way too seriously. That leads me back to, “Lighten up for heaven’s sake.”

It isn’t difficult to see how he reeled in so many. We’ve all been taught never to make statements of “always” or “never” because they are almost never true. [Or maybe you were taught always to avoid making statements of "never" or "always" because they are almost always false.] But “never” is right there in the title punctuated with an “ever.” [It's well-known that "never, ever" is the literary equivalent of "I double-dog dare you."] Besides that, he asserts that virtually everyone he asked about the practice does it incorrectly. If you want to incite someone, just tell them they are wrong. [For good measure you might want to say "totally, completely, utterly, and inarguably wrong."] About anything. You might as well poke them with a stick.

For a simple gauge of how well this strategy worked I pulled up Mr. Manjoo’s articles from the last few weeks. The range in the number of comments was 12 to 266. The number of times a reader “Liked” an article to their Facebook wall ranged from 104 to 852. The Space Invaders article inspired 2254 comments and 144,119 Facebook “likes.” [All numbers are as of 3 February 2011.] That’s a pretty impressive spike. The topics of the other articles included CES, iPhones, Steve Jobs, and electric cars. Yet what got everyone into a tizzy is the number of times we press the spacebar.

The proof offered for the one-space rule and the logic with which it is supported are riddled with more holes than the superfluously-spaced correspondence he receives. Even Mr. Manjoo was amused by the experts he cites. The greatest logical fault though, and the hook by which so many people in my circle were caught, is that there is no reason to expect the general public [including Slate readers, doctors, computer programmers, and other highly accomplished professionals] to know anything about typography.

Typographers are a minuscule percentage of the workforce. Add in designers, printers, publishers, editors, and writers and you know what you get? It’s still a minuscule percentage of the workforce. Those of us immersed in a field too easily assume that our specialized knowledge is general knowledge. Even within the field, levels of knowledge and expertise vary widely. [There is a well-respected literary journal to which I was going to submit some pieces until I looked at their product. The page layout was amateurish and ugly. The editors are great editors. They choose high-quality work by writers in whose company I would be proud to be included. And then they almost literally dump it on the page.]

When I edit something for print, whether I wrote it or it came from a novice, I routinely check for extra spaces. As formatting problems go, it is among the fastest and easiest to correct. It literally takes a few seconds even for very long documents. Is that a few seconds I sometimes wish I didn’t have to spend? Sure. On the other hand, I more often wish that everything could be fixed so quickly and easily.

Jan 252011

This story began the week before Christmas. One of my sisters held out the comics section of the newspaper. [It's so quaint how she still subscribes to the newspaper, but that's another story.] She pointed to a particular strip and said, “Explain to me why this is funny.”

It was a Foxtrot that you can see here. Go look and then come back. I’ll wait. Seriously, this story is much better if you’ve seen it….

Ignoring the premise that if you have to explain humor, the person you are explaining to will NEVER think it is funny, I told her that it refers to the original Star Trek series. I told her about the landing parties and how there was often a character that you had never seen before that gets killed shortly after they land. That character was usually wearing a red shirt and so it got to be sort of a running joke among fans that the red-shirt-character would soon be dead. Since he plans to eat the gingerbread men….

Admittedly, seeing it written out like that makes me think it’s not as funny any more. Like I said, if you have to explain…. Anyway, here’s the thing. I’ve told this story and described the comic to about a dozen people in the last few weeks. Without exception, I had to try to explain to every single one of them why it’s funny. Now, some of them are much younger so Star Trek TOS is not as much a part of their popular culture. Some of them are die-hard Star Wars fans and therefore [they think] they cannot enjoy any series from the Star Trek franchise. But a couple of them are around my age and are pretty hard-core sci-fi fans [I thought] and still I was met with the chirping crickets.

Now, I know I am a big nerd/geek. I have always freely [sometimes proudly] admitted that. But this, right now, is the last time I’m going to try to explain this comic to anyone. I might finally be getting Shatner’s “Get a life” message. [Go here if you don't get that reference. I'm not explaining that one either. But I think it's funny as hell.]

Making Nice

Posted by Tim at 22:46 on 2010/11/08
Nov 082010

I have an aversion to the word “nice.” More specifically, I detest being called nice. I much prefer anything more specific: kind, courteous, pleasant, a gentleman… pretty much anything else. I have spoken about this often enough [far too often] that I thought I had written about it here more than I have. It was actually more than five years ago that I posted:

Nice is far too general, too impersonal, too non-descriptive, and to me at least, a little insulting. Calling someone nice means that you haven’t really given any thought to what it is you like about them. Nice is what you call your cousin… or your blind date…. But please, not me!

Generally I am an agreeable and pleasant person, but before this post appears to be entirely self-serving I have to admit that not everyone agrees all the time. I have been called bad things. Some of them were true. [I once suggested someone limit their epithets to four-letter words and she came back with "cold hrtd bstd." I had to give her props for creativity at least -- not saying whether that one was true.]

Anyway, I recently started following the podcasts of Hot for Words. [I'm sure I've written before about my love of words and word origins, right?] And consequently I saw this video on “nice” that gives me even more reasons to feel vindicated in my dislike of the word.

I’m sure I’ll be writing more about Hot for Words. I’ll certainly be watching more of the videos. Because I love words so much. You know? And it wasn’t my intention when I started this post [really!] but I’m reminded of how much I love this song and video by the Dixie Chicks. So even though it’s totally following some tangent [I do that a lot it seems] I’m going to close with it.

H of a Playlist

Posted by Tim at 19:57 on 2010/11/01
Nov 012010

So, I was looking for a particular song on my iPod and I went to the alphabetical listing for the title. It struck me that the songs here provide an interesting cross-section of my music library — Disney to X Files, Hem to R.E.M., Beatles to Stones — you get the idea. I was able to find YouTube videos for almost all of them. [The videos are not necessarily the same version of the song as I have in my collection however.]

How about you? Anyone want to share a cross-section of your tunes? [You can pick anywhere in your alpha list or just do a shuffle play. And your list doesn't need to be any where near this long -- 6 songs or so should be plenty.]

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