Go forth and fill your libraries with media.
Seriously, thanks to everyone for being so amazing and patient. You are the reason I love Vox.
I was just told that the Amazon Conduit will be fixed by tomorrow. I will post here as soon as I get word that it's back up and running.
I know this has been frustrating and I am sorry there wasn't more I could do to make it less so. I really appreciate your patience though.
Cheers,
I'm reading this article by Nell Scovell.
One frequent excuse you hear from late-night-TV executives is that “women just don’t apply for these jobs.” And they certainly don’t in the same numbers as men. But that’s partly because the shows often rely on current (white male) writers to recommend their funny (white male) friends to be future (white male) writers. Targeted outreach to talented bloggers, improv performers, and stand-ups would help widen the field of applicants.
I've never worked in TV writing nor comedy. So why am I nodding in cynical agreement?
Ah! It needs some mild rewriting:
One frequent excuse you hear from technology company executives is that “women just don’t apply for these jobs.” And they certainly don’t in the same numbers as men. But that’s partly because the projects often rely on current (white male) programmers to recommend their funny (white male) friends to be future (white male) programmers. Targeted outreach to talented bloggers, tech conference attendees, and niche discussion groups would help widen the field of applicants.
Bad news. As many of you have probably noticed, the Amazon Conduit was not fixed in the last week's release. Unfortunately, there was an undetected bug that is preventing the conduit from working.
We are working on this bug fix and hope to have the Conduit back up and running this week.
I will keep you posted.
Thank you for being so patient.
Check out these actual spider webs on the tree outside our house!
Blog Action Day is every October 15th, when blogger are asked to post something about a single issue to show our strength and conviction as an online community. It's a great way to feel connected to the greater good, and the participation of so many bloggers to support the world's leading non-profit organizations is something you can do to help, right now. By blogging today, you're supporting some of the world's leading non-profits and sharing your voice for change.
This year's topic is climate change, and we'd love to read your thoughts on the topic. If you participate, leave us a link to your post in the comments, so we know to check out your post!
Go to www.blogactionday.org to learn more, get a badge for your blog showing your participation, and see some ideas for your post on climate change.
Can't wait to read your posts!
~ daisy
Silent film festival today. This will be a test of stamina. The weather is foggy now but will be brilliant later, just when we get out of Bardelys the Magnificent. And there will be the usual game with the Castro Theatre--whether the balcony is open, though of course the showings sell out and you'll need it. Dammit, just open the balcony.
And there will be the usual smell of popcorn, a faint aroma of cleaning solvent, the sound of the toilet stall doors slamming, the glimpses of the story slides and the sound of the background music before the show, the undying anxiety that somebody tall or wearing a huge hat will sit in front of me and that somebody talky will sit behind me, the watching the crowd arrive: the newbies astounded that the only seats are down in front. The festival geeks wearing their t-shirts from Cinecon, the loudmouths soliloquizing to would-be dates.
Down front, stage right, the big cheeses in the little world of silent film. The Hillsborough-looking people who may sit in the enviable reserved seating for generous donors and schmooze with the guests of honor--these, ambassadors from think tanks, the French consul, the Japanese consul, sometimes a deputy, never a starlet or industrialist or pop singer. The San Francisco Silent Film Festival, something of a zoo of specimens from obscure bureaucracies, and scions of families related to the films we're about to see. Stories about having Harold Lloyd as your grandpa or John Gilbert as your dad.
These wretchedly uncomfortable seats at the Castro. All these crowds. That line for the bathroom. All those people who talk through the movies. The tedium of lining up out front. What if one of these elements were missing? I think I'd wax nostalgic for it. Sometimes comfort is the removal of the noticeable.
Now concluded with this year's silent film festival; now must bring myself to the slick, nonsensual aspects of the twenty-first century. So much in the backgrounds of silent films are worth looking at--what did that world sound like? Smell like? How many streets were unpaved, cigars smoked indoors, typewriter keys struck, teeth unbrushed?
What did it feel like to the hand? How many mohair-upholstered chairs, how many fine woolen suit jackets and crepe de chine dresses? How much charmeuse, art silk, starched linen, celluloid?
The sound of a slammed door from solid oak--not particle board; the foyer smells of oil soap. The sounds of creaking wooden stairs, the ice man's or greengrocer's or ragman's horse, a backfiring automobile, the chickens in the yard next door. Twenty-watt incandescent bulbs or even gaslights overhead.
How it felt to be in their shoes: walk from the trolley, straight to the subway-tiled bathroom for a corn plaster. Walk downtown, to its sidewalks, its busy little shops, banks where men still affect spats and tails for daytime business dress, its ashcans, its crossroads moderated by policemen, and, everywhere, Fords, all of them the same.
A day in the country easily obtained with a train ticket and wicker picnic basket. Women know how to prepare picnic shoulders, yeast biscuits. The feel of wax paper, the crinkle sound of it.
A landscape without plastic, Styrofoam, Neoprene. Few things molded; more things, wrought. Handiwork in abundance: your can of hand-packed sardines, your hand-knit scarf, your mail hand-delivered, its contents hand-written.
The modern in such obvious juxtaposition--the mystery of radio, of anything powered without wires. The mystery of pneumatic tubes, escalators. A world of hidden entries, ways to cheat the doorman: dumbwaiters, back stairs, cellars, garbage chutes.
Hot summers with just the metal blades of a fan to relieve the heat, or the joy of a creekside swimming place. The liberty to nap in a hammock. The freedom from office worries when off the premises. Loosen the tie, expose the darned socks, ease. Wake to the closing credits.
Spent the weekend in Southern California. I'll be happy to not be in a car for a while; what a tedious lifestyle that must be, driving everywhere. I wondered how the fad for "green" plays down there, then had my question answered, unexpectedly, at a carwash in Studio City.
Inside the faded 1970s building was a set of gumball machines to keep children preoccupied during the surprisingly lengthy polishing session that follows a car's encounter with the rotating brushes and soap nozzles. There were the usual brightly colored, most likely stale, candies, the sheets of temporary tattoos, little plastic toys encased in clear bubbles--these offerings really haven't changed for the last fifty years. Some of the items showed the influence of more recent culture--there were glitter stickers with all that "princess" imagery and pink coloration which seem mandatory for little girls to obtain nowadays. And then there were others extolling "Green!" in puffy letters, accompanied by a bug-eyed, blobby cartoon character smiling and cajoling:
"Go green!"
"Green is good"
"Stop polluting!"
But there were no further calls to action, nothing about convincing Mom to walk you to school, or Dad to take the carpool.
Still, it's intriguing that kids would want to be "green," or that sticker manufacturers think that's what kids want. It's a lot like those items with peace signs or "Love" slogans which seemed ubiquitous in the late Sixties-early Seventies. I remember those things vaguely--they were usually inexpensive, plastic trinkets, expressing this seemingly profound sentiment for the brief period of the product's lifespan. And these same gumball machines at the frayed carwash in Studio City, California, probably sold them just as cynically, to just as little permanent effect.
Plus ça change.
The Amazon Conduit will be working again on October 15, 2009. Thank you to everyone for your patience.
Have a great weekend,
daisy, Team Vox
