Desktop computer; phone; router; Time Capsule; LEDs; active loudspeakers (x2); audio mixer; external hard drives (x2); fan; desk lamp.
Twelve electrical devices, permanently plugged in just to make my work space work. Two more -- USB charger and audio recorder -- plugged in intermittently, although seldom simultaneously.
Lucky Peach was a great magazine about food; informative, witty, intelligent and eminently readable when most of the competition was nothing of the sort. But when it , under slightly mysterious circumstances earlier this year, I didn't think too much about the consequences. I'd never actually been in a position to buy a paper copy, alas, but I very much enjoyed reading it online, which was generally a treat of both words and pictures. 1 And so I thought, well, that's OK. It'll live forever, digitally.
The much ballyhooed total eclipse came and it went, more than a third of a world away. I didn't pay it much attention at the time, though I did marvel at some of the photographs of totality, while also staying aware that I had no way of knowing whether they were, in fact, of this totality rather than some previous event. A couple of people I know were there that I know of, and their accounts were terrific in a detached way. I also saved "Annie Dillard's Classic Essay: 'Total Eclipse'", which The Atlantic generously made available "until the end of August". But I didn't read it.
Bugger. I've been dreading this news. I owe PPGB more than I ever said, more than I ever could say. Truly, the end of an era.
A few days ago, searching for something completely different, I came across a post by John Hawks -- -- which I duly bookmarked. The real point of that, of course, was to remind myself to go and read the foundation post: , by Rick Borchelt.1 It's a beaut, and not just because it pushes all my confirmation bias buttons.