Regularly updated essays, polemics, deranged ramblings, and more!
This morning, eight lucky lottery winners - out of some 20,000 - each dressed in their finest winter garb, climbed single-file into a tiny stone cave. Hundreds cheered them on, but perhaps felt a pang of jealousy that they could not shuffle into the cramped passage themselves. Morning light already suffused the landscape to reveal verdant checkers of forest and farmland, but the sun itself remained elusive behind the low-hanging clouds of an Irish dawn. Painfully anachronistic electricity illuminated the lucky few as they swirled into a circular chamber at the heart of this stone chapel. They could see etchings of all kinds, some jagged, some curved, some morphological, adorning the walls of three small transepts. They looked up to admire a vaulted ceiling of interlocking stone leaves, evocative of ancient earthen fingers clasped in a circle as one might hold a butterfly. Then came the exciting part: the lights were shut off. They stood in the darkness. They waited.
Only when you wait for the sun do you begin to understand its mercy. Humanity has calculated its trajectory across the firmament with remarkable accuracy for at least as long as our first literate societies have known how to write, and probably for much longer, and yet the anticipation for its miraculous arrival still retains its potency amid stone and morning dew. This small band of strangers looked back at the corridor through which they had come, and surely felt the stirring of dust-covered sensations: nostalgia, or perhaps mysticism, or some other chthonic emotion. In hindsight, it was clear that this passageway was constructed on a slope to ensure that the entrance itself is not visible from the central chamber; however, a small window above the door now began to glow. Then: the miracle. As God is often accused of saying, "Let there be light."
During the previous academic year I had the distinct privilege of collaborating with several colleagues at the Mansfield Library in the creation of an experimental approach towards not only reimagining our instructional curriculum but also mapping our values and goals as a part of the library more broadly. After spending the fall semester refining the process and ultimately carrying out the experiment in December 2022, we then regrouped and created an interactive presentation of our approach for the Montana Library Association conference in April 2023. This experience helped us break through communication barriers and provided an alternative to conventional curriculum revision approaches which are rooted in linear thinking and assume scarcity as a default, and I hope this approach will continue to help us - and anyone else who gives it a try - create a "crazy quilt" of ideas which prioritizes holism over neatness or conformity.
I heard about the latest iteration of the ChatGPT machine, which quickly generates lengthy responses to text-based inquiries in a style designed to mimic human conversations, from a Tweet which favorably compared its verbose and highly-formatted response to a programming question with the Google search results to the exact same query.
The first two volumes of my apocalyptic poetry are out now. Read more, or contact me to obtain a physical copy!