A New Class:

Smokler on May 15, 2002

I was intrigued by an article found on Metafilter that spectulated that America’s cities owe much of their good and bad fortune to a new societal segment known as the Creative Class, educated upper-middle class young folks whom the post-dot com economy is eager to recruit. The author Richard Florida (who has a book out on the subject) posits that cities like Austin, Chicago and my very own San Francisco are thriving thanks to policies focused on social diversity, high quality of life and respect for the frenetic nature of urban space while cities like Memphis, Las Vegas, and Miami are slipping thanks to their reliance on office parks, strip malls and miles of freeways.

It’s a lovely theory and one I get behind with all my spirit. And yet I hope Mr. Florida addresses the difficulties of running a thriving, diverse city, much less living in one. I’d rank affordable housing at the top which is mentioned exactly nowhere in this piece.

The book’s called The Rise of the Creative Class: and How Its Transforming Work and I’m going to see if I can get ahold of it. I’m in to pop social phenomenon stuff like this, particularly when I dig the conclusion. Meantime, where do you live and how does it rank on the Creative Class scale?

Get in the Doorway!

Smokler on May 14, 2002

So last night I’m on the phone with my friend Dinah and suddenly I find myself thinking “Why is my desk lamp walking?.” “Why does it feel like this whole building is on a cheap pair of rollerskates?”

My first earthquake. Now, I ain’t from this part of the world. Back home we got tornados, blizzards, and Kid Rock. But the earth moving means the world is coming to an end. So naturally it scared the piss out of me.

Anyway, Dinah’s quick fingers soon discovered the quake’s epicenter was somewhere near Gilroy and was about a 5.2 on the Richter Scale. Many earthquake web sites were jammed up so where did we go to find out the latest? Metafilter of course whose new motto should be “The world blogged in real time.”

Come again?

Smokler on May 13, 2002

I couldn’t agree more. The web is one shiny dangling thing that we bat incessantly like hyperactive kittens. I can’t get within six feet of the thing, without sending emails, IMing, playing bouncy ball games like an imbecile, usually all at once. I have a feeling that if I could type with my toes, I would.

I have a problem. I’d like to not go through life contantly distracted by this thing. I’d like to a present participant in my own life. So I’m trying, a little at a time, not to do eight things at once. First step: When I’m on the phone, I do nothing but talk on the phone.

Poof…

Smokler on May 13, 2002

Somehow I managed to miss the KFOG Kaboom for the second year in a row. This enormous fireworks show is done, free of charge, by San Francisco’s favorite radio station. KFOG (104.5 FM in the SF bay area) somehow has the clout to get the whole city out for its celebration and yet remains admirably independent of ownership from the radio cabaletry of Clear Channel and Infiniti Broadcasting. Bravo.

And what was I doing? Eating Thai takeout and watching Dr. Zhivago. Oy.

Another Project Idea:

Smokler on May 11, 2002

Okay, who is collecting all of these stories that have been written about blogging lately? Are we not at a crucial time in the history of the medium friends? Should we not be preserving this attention, these documents, for future generations?

I say YES! So I’m keeping a bookmark list of every story I see about the weblogging phenom. If you spot any, please leave them in the comments section of this post. I’m sure one day someone will have a more sophisticated method of cataloging, someone more tech savvy than I. Until then, I’m going to do my little part.

Hope you’ll help out.

I Listen, You Listen…

Smokler on May 10, 2002

Thanks to the sharp eyes of my friend James and the creative crackle of Sooz in Boston, I’m having a Jim Dandy of a Time contributing to Listen Up!, a collaborative weblog about music. Think of it as Kazaa with a human face and no ads.

Purty Neat.