essential free mac apps for academia

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One (the only?) skill set I picked up in graduate school: efficiency. As some of you know, my master's program required a ridiculous amount of course work (51 hours [16 courses, 1 thesis] in 4 semesters). I also worked two jobs (about 15 hours a week at the library and 7 hours a week doing curatorial work), and remained committed to maintaining a creative voice (updating this blog). Also had to, you know, do laundry, locate and prepare provisions, and socialize. I incorporated technology as my organ during this time, and survived as a result of it. I am a minimalist; I hate having tons of operations running at the same time, clogging up valuable processing speed all in the name of making one arbitrary task 10% less complicated. The following, however, constitute apps that I used all the fucking time. These are all free apps, by the way, because I am always fucking broke. 

1. "Alfred" by Running With Crayons LTD

This is the best application for MacOSX. Ever. It is an application launcher, which is exactly what it sounds like. The thing is basically a search bar that pops up when you hit space+alt. Not only can you open apps with it, but you can define words, perform calculations, shorten urls, search google/bing/amazon/whatever, search your harddrive for both locations and files, and on and on. Alfred is highly customizable, intelligent (it gets better at predicting what you want to do the more you use it), and best of all, spares you from opening unnecessary apps and windows.  


2. Skim by Sourceforge

For two of my classes this semester I was required to purchase zero books in lieu of having hundreds upon hundreds of digital .pdf files to read instead. Economical (thanks profs), but printing fucking sucks, everyone knows that. If you're looking for any meaningful engagement with this already-mundane form of reading, Adobe Reader won't do shit for you. Skim, on the other hand, allows you to highlight (or underline!), annotate, and organize all of your markings and comments. Soon I'll forget what my own handwriting looks like.


3. Dropbox by Dropbox

You probably already know about this by now, but in case you don't: an internet harddrive. Access files saved to dropbox from any computer with an internet connection. I only saved my school documents to dropbox, so everything important was always backed up (lazy). I also use this app to share files with friends, as you can set-up public folders accessible by invited users. 2GB free, invite your friends for more space.


4. utorrent by BitTorrent

If you haven't learned how to navigate the wide world of torrents yet - I dunno, what the hell? Get with it. You will be too broke to go see movie and concerts in grad school so you'll have to settle for downloading them. Why do I recommend utorrent over transmission? First and most importantly: LIGHT. LIGHT. LIGHT. Will not interfere with anything! Also: customizable, easy, fast, fast, fast.

5. caffeine by lighthead

Keeps your mac from dimming the screen every 30 seconds of disuse. Because sometimes, staring vacantly at a half-finished paper requires hours of illuminated focus.


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short story

thanks to AT.

a perfect escape

A perfect escape, Buzz thought.

* * *

Sandra was horrified to find the dog dead on the bathroom floor.

As if afraid the beast would spring to life, (despite that his advanced years had long prevented any sudden movement) she cautiously nudged the thing with her foot to confirm the diagnosis.

Any pity Sandra might have had for the dog was dwarfed by her own embarrassment. After all, the dog was not hers; she was merely doing her aunt's family a housesitting favor while they vacationed in Florida.

I'm afraid Henry has died, she said to her aunt on the phone.

Oh no. Oh...but we knew this was coming. I'll tell Jill and Anthony when we return. No need to spoil their holiday.

What should I...uh, what should I do with Henry?

A pause and a sigh could be heard over the line.

There's a pet cremetory on Maple. Take one of the blank checks I left in my desk drawer and have him finished. It's only ten in the morning; I'm sure they'll be open now. No, you better go ahead and do it now. We won't be getting back for six more days.

After finalizing the dog's funerary arrangements with her aunt, Sandra called the pet crematory (Pet Cremations of Tidewater: A Sensible Alternative) to ensure Henry could be dropped off that day.

To Sandra, the thought of a dead animal in her car was revolting. She wasn't the sensitive type. I'll just take the bus, she decided. But how to transport the thing?

This won't do, she thought, tossing aside a cardboard box. She had gone into the garage hoping to find a container both big enough to hold Henry and discreet enough so no one would know a dead dog was inside.

She settled on a stained black luggage bag. With some luck, Henry fit inside quite well, although Sandra found his limbs a bit stiff.

Sandra looked at the bus schedule posted on the refrigerator. She located the bus she needed to get to Maple amongst the rows of alternating blue and light-blue travel bars. The next bus comes at eleven-twelve, she observed. The clock in the kitchen read eleven-and-seven.

Unfortunately for Sandra the nearest bus stop was three blocks away. Wanting to rid herself of the dog as quickly as possible, she hurried to her destination, finding the dog much heavier than he looked, especially when confined within such an awkward package.

However, she made it.

Whatcha got in there? asked the busdriver. Computer parts? He smiled a toothy smile.

Yes, said Sandra, panting, glad for the unexpected cover.

Sandra chose the first seat on the right side of the bus. She gladly released Henry into the aisle seat and herself sat by the window. A man in a red beanie hat looked at her strangely from the seat one back and across.

Oh god, does he know? Sandra thought. She scanned the luggage bag. The outline of a dead dog was not visible. Satisfied that the man couldn't possibly know computer parts were in fact not inside, Sandra turned to the window.

The bus roared into motion. Sandra had a few miles to ride. It was a pretty spring day and Sandra was happy she wouldn't have to care for the dog for six days. The bus stopped at a busy intersection. Sandra closed her eyes and dreamed of what television programs to watch when she returned.

Hey! she heard the busdriver shout.

Sandra looked toward the front of the bus. The busdriver had stood up and was looking out the door. Sandra looked out her window. A man in a red beanie carrying a heavy-looking black luggage bag had just vanished into a thick crowd of indifferent pedestrians.

New Pop Standard Tracking

In this post I share the most rewarding feeling one can experience as an avid music listener - pattern recognition. A near-waltz for chronic insomniacs. The category includes me. The following videos (alternatively in the last example: audio track with stationary picture attached) all utilize the Santo and Johnny steel guitar classic.

1959 - Santo&Johnny "Sleep Walk"



1963 - TheBeachBoys "In My Room"



1965 - TheRighteousBrothers "Unchained Melody"



1999 - ModestMouse "Sleepwalkin'"



2005 - TheRaveonettes "Seductress of Bums"



2006 - TheFieryFurnaces "Waiting to Know You"




                                                              monumental importance.

Flying Lotus - Cosmogramma (WARP195)

Usually this space is reserved for my silly things; however, the only thing > words is, for me, pop music.

Several record releases in my life have truly excited me. I love almost everything - really. Since I was 15 or so I've obsessed over obtaining every new album deemed worthwhile. And all of the worthwhile albums released before me, my existence. Whatever I enjoyed most typically ran analogous to my emotional state of being, whoever I was dating/trying to fuck, my location, more and more contextual data etc.

One begins to sense patterns after so much listening. Divorcing music from yourself, applying some tonal New-Critical lens and analyzing the sounds for themselves.

"There is nothing new under the sun." -Ecclesiastes 1:9

Accepting this as a personal aesthetic maxim, for music, for art, the only segway to originality is (counter-intuitively) bricolage. And not just mash-up-ed, mixed medium bullshit. Really weaving together existing product to create something completely unresembling its prototype. We are lucky to have computers and technology to lubricate this process. Nothing depresses me more than an unapologetically referential folk song released in 2010. Nothing.

Which is why Cosmogramma excites me. Because I don't know what it is, but I know what it could be. What parts of it could be. I want bitches grinding me to "Do the Astral Plane." I want MF Doom spitting rhymes over "Computer Face." I want "And the World Laughs with You" playing at coffeeshops and "Recoiled" to be Autechre's new single. But the thing isn't all disjointed; the cohesion suggests that, yeah, genre is becoming less indicative of physical content.



I wish instead of backlashing against the increasing reliance on internet/biochips/bleeps/beeps/emoticons people would just admit that efficiency in communication is as much of an artistic merit as anything else. A good expression of this is electronic music. The evolution of it is just astounding - the only audible medium really keeping up with the times.



I mean, Thom Yorke is on board. Come on. Radiohead has always succeeded in tapping the currents of the universal subconscious.



Keep workin it baby.

Album drops May 4th. Like cocaine though headphones.

Al, Free of Re-: a Sponse

(Considering that pre contains mostly re, it does Work to Create a linear fantasy.)

***

oh, if films were as Plays,
the spectator would never
Tire of film's fixed Position.
the stage Petitions for Vision
afresh; film Treats a
Lapse between Presentations
as non-existent!

i Place this thought in space
not Marked with Wire
or Cord; space Stored in hearts
hardened to obtain:

again, lover.
once more, Volver.
as in the past we
Possess each other
but now we Mind our
Cycles, they hover
like Births Pressed
back for Cover.

you're my Ally, brother.
Construct your fantasy
of Verb and Fuel
your Quest, your Mission
with my contrast, with my 
Cognition.

Eadweard Muybridge
Movement of the hand, drawing a circle
1887

other

no time to write anything not immediately pertinent to Ecclesiastes, Gertrude Stein, apophatic theology, 12 Monkeys, "Parker's Back," Heidegger, the fall of Jerusalem, or surveys of the function of primates in Japanese culture. Yes, somehow these elements constitute a Master's Degree.

I composed this with the subject of a majority of my poems a few months back. I'm the first set of italics, if you're interested. He's an excellent writer. Bookmark his blog. 

xx
kk



anonymous commenter: I left you a small request in the comments section of the post you are so very interested in destroying. It will be the last time you ever hear from me. In any context.

Old Stuff

note: the currents of my creative energies have been redirected; either into the pathetic wellstream of furniture arrangement or into a reservoir for academic use. Yes, composition does work like divisible, rolling-over pieces of material, in case you were wondering. So, today I present a little steam-of-consciousness prose written about an old friend (around a year ago). This person recently asked if I ever put anything on this blog about him. I hadn't, but I feel such a formative friendship deserves some poetic space. So here's to you. My sincerest blessing.


"Today I discovered that unconventional beauty attracts men who are unconventional. Either that, or some alloy of internal sentience and external asceticism stiffens my empathy, and because of that it's excruciatingly difficult to converse with others.

External asceticism by default. I'm no fucking martyr. It's just that, no one's watching me.

Do you find any truth in this assertion: "Everyone's favorite word is their own name." I'm ambivalent towards its factuality; however, it does intuitively force the question:
"Is my name my favorite word?"
How else could we possibly begin to judge the accuracy of the aforementioned theory? Do people have favorite words? Do you ask them about it? Probably not - although I did once.


It was probably 2004. At that time my life followed a predictable, all-American, 4-season cycle. Summers were spent working part-time. Fall: school and running. Winter: Depression. Spring: school and soccer. The memories of high school I do not cherish. I hardly remember being in love. But I remember a few classmates' favorite words. (Juxtapose. Pandemonium.) Or least favorite. (Moist. Like.) It was during this existence period that unconventionality first stared to notice me. His beauty then is absolutely perfect to me now.

My computer radiates in a shade of feminine pink, bubbly keyboard, and complementary periwinkle Bluetooth wireless mouse. I took up an interest in gender studies in my formative collegiate years, (a proclivity which has since, by the way, dissipated into a shriveled memory of passion) and predict that my educated lady-friends probably would turn their nose on such a gender-biased alterna-typewriter.

An equally combative strategy to battling the tenseness experienced at being the second sex would be to just fucking embrace it. Submission can be sexy. Operate your business not from behind a cubicle wall but within the minds of others."

non poem 1

I hardly share anything. But people hardly read anything. The bore of academic lore coupled with an isolation becoming more and more

- evident, unavoidable, or worst of all, innate -

warrants some sort of creative outlet. That I don't throw away. The beauty of the internet, a billion pieces of html forever floating. Anonymous as you like it.

Fuck Sincerely,

K.