Google has announced that they've discontinued supporting the Google gadget called "daily me," which was a personalized easily updated RSS-style feed one could view on one's iGoogle page. I was an early and happy user of this, calling mine--as some readers of this blog will know--"your daily Al." Well now, as I say, Google has decided this gadget is not worth supporting, and so I have had to close down. I apologize to those who are used to seeing me on their iGoogle pages. You'll have to find me elsewhere now: this blog, my Twitter feed, my Facebook page, my Selected Works page, my PennSound page or my PoemTalk blog.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
the end of your daily Al
Google has announced that they've discontinued supporting the Google gadget called "daily me," which was a personalized easily updated RSS-style feed one could view on one's iGoogle page. I was an early and happy user of this, calling mine--as some readers of this blog will know--"your daily Al." Well now, as I say, Google has decided this gadget is not worth supporting, and so I have had to close down. I apologize to those who are used to seeing me on their iGoogle pages. You'll have to find me elsewhere now: this blog, my Twitter feed, my Facebook page, my Selected Works page, my PennSound page or my PoemTalk blog.
"I teach horizontally, meaning that while I might begin with a fixed idea of what I'm going to teach that day, I let it drift rhizomatically way off topic, often pulling it back when it gets too far. I rely on non-fixed materials to teach this way; the whole world is at my fingertips. Should I go off on a tangent about John and Rauschenberg and their love relationship as expressed in Rauschenberg's bed, an image of that bed is always a click away. From there, we can head anywhere into the non-fixed universe, be it film, text or sound. And of course, that always takes us elsewhere. As Cage says, 'We are getting nowhere fast.'" 
that anyone has yet got the imaginative measure of that terrifying day six years ago. Certainly our Tolstoy has not crawled out of the rubble. The closest we have, Don DeLillo, succeeded as an essayist-journalist ("In the Ruins of the Future: Reflections on Terror and Loss in the Shadow of September,” Harper’s, December 2001) but, to my mind, failed as a novelist ("Falling Man"). One reason, perhaps, is that the remembered emotion was instantly buried under a pile of cultural junk.' - Tod Gitlin in his review of Susan Faludi's The Terror Dream (written for 
