The surge in podcasting and talk about podcasting has reminded me to
get a safari together to look for those poems of mine I promised.
Podcast: 'broadcasting' in MP3 format. Made popularly possible by the
advance of that expensive little music player from Apple. There was
recently a comment in the Utne about the promise of togetherness and
connectedness when the fact is the opposite. The use of the thing
actually leads to isolation. I think the article was called Hell is
Other People's iPods.
Oddly enough, and we do find it surprising, we don't listen to music
around here.
Anyway, several of us were involved in a poetry reading at the
Coffeehouse. It was Food Pantry night. We burned my selections to disk.
Now, where is that rascal?
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