Countdown

Book Review

Every night, after she’s read a couple of chapters of Nancy Drew, Franny closes her eyes and drafts a letter to Chairman Khrushchev, asking him to come to an understanding of things and not blow up America. But she can never get the wording quite right. In fact, she can’t seem to get anything quite right. She can’t duck and cover correctly during the school air raid drills, she can’t stop her eccentric uncle from digging up the front lawn to make a bomb shelter, she can’t figure out the mystery of her college freshman sister’s weeklong disappearance, and she is escalating a cold war with her former best friend Margie, with implications that will proliferate the entire neighborhood.

In Deborah Wiles’ documentary novel, the first of a planned Sixties Trilogy, the great and small dramas of Franny’s life are interwoven with a text-and-image collage of the pop singles, presidential television addresses, children’s books, and photojournalism of the historic moments of 1962. Underlying everything is the doomsday promise that was the Cuban Missile Crisis; Franny’s whole world is just one blinding flash away from total annihilation.

The mash-ups of primary source photos, historical notes, and pop culture ephemera that serve as interludes to the novel’s narrative are by turns clever, informative, ironic, and portentous, and give great context to the story. However, much like last year’s Newbery winner When You Reach Me won readers over as much with its realistic 6th grade social drama as with its time travel mystery, Franny’s day-to-day school and family concerns are just as engaging as the high concept collage aspect of the text.

And speaking of the Newbery, this book is a worthy contender for that prize in 2011. Giving a vivid picture of childhood in early 1960s, yet describing family and social situations still highly applicable to children today, this book is worth the attention of any young person or teacher of young people.

Countdown (The Sixties Trilogy, Book 1)
Written by Deborah Wiles
Scholastic
377 p.
ISBN: 9780545106054
Release Date: May 1, 2010

The Memory Bank

Book Review

“Hope and Honey Scroggins were the closest of sisters, had been right from the start. Truly, they were lucky to love each other so!

“Not so lucky when it came to their parents, though.

“Mr. and Mrs. Scroggins were simply awful people.”

These parents soon prove to be so awful that they make the parents of Matilda seem somewhat decent. So awful that they randomly leave Honey on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, and tell Hope simply to “forget her.” Her little sister Honey was the only good thing in her life, so of course it is impossible to forget her. So, left to herself, Hope does nothing but sleep, and in her dreams she tries to find her sister.

Then one day Hope receives an unusual letter stating that her memory account is woefully out of balance, and soon she is picked up by a repo man of sorts and taken to The Memory Bank, a strange quasi-magical institution where all people’s memories, in the form of glowing physical globules, are catalogued and carefully stored. Hope has not been living and creating memories for herself, and so the head of the bank is greatly concerned. Hope is taken in by people at the bank, and hopes her access to the memory bank will help her find her sister, all while the bank takes measures against a rogue organization that is threatening to destroy memories.

Meanwhile, we learn through parallel, illustrated interludes that Honey has been adopted by a band of laughing children led by a teenage girl who perform “terrorist” activities against the memory bank, such as dumping candy into the memory receptacles with a dump truck.

Much like the illustrations in The Invention of Hugo Cabret, Rob Shepperson’s drawings for Coman’s novel are as essential to the advancement of the plot as the written narrative, making this a truly collaborative work. It is one of several recent titles (along with The Dreamer) that show a growing and welcome trend towards exquisitely illustrated children’s novels.

There are a lot of things to like about this book. The illustrations are fun and generous in their frequency, making this a fast-moving but satisfying read for young readers. There is a surreal, dream-like quality to the book that is appealing, somewhere at the intersection of Roald Dahl and Kate DiCamillo. Unfortunately, like most dreams, it doesn’t seem to quite come together or make complete sense once you are finished with it. Is it an allegory that I haven’t made sense of yet? Is it a fun fantasy? Is it just a random dream? Although appealing, the book ultimately doesn’t deliver the punch that it seems it should, and I think it will leave young readers scratching their heads.

The Memory Bank
Written by Carolyn Coman, Illustrated by Rob Shepperson
Arthur A. Levine / Scholastic
288 p.
ISBN: 9780545210669
Release Date: October 1, 2010

The Dreamer

Book Review

Long before the meteoric rise of Pablo Neruda, Nobel Prize-winning poet and one of the most important literary figures of the 20th century, there was a sensitive and shy young boy in a small town in Southern Chile named Neftali Reyes.  In The Dreamer, Pam Muñoz Ryan gives us the story of how that young boy grew to become the great Latin American poet, succeeding despite or perhaps because of the repression of a hard-willed father who had no regard for his son’s curiosity, creativity and abilities for self-expression.

“On a continent of many songs, in a country shaped like the arm of a tall guitarist, the rain drummed down on the town of Temuco.” From this opening sentence onward, Ryan gives us a narrative of a boy who sees magic and wonder infused in the everyday things of the world.  This is a creative outlook native to so many children, but often squelched by societal, educational, or parental demands of conformity.  One clear message from this book to children is that it is acceptable and desirable to be curious about the world and empathetic to others, and it is valuable to express oneself, even if in some circumstances it requires great bravery.  To this end, the negative portrayal of Neruda’s “blunt father” seems at times extreme to the point of being cartoonish and unbelievable, and yet may be entirely accurate.  Ryan’s writing, while clear and direct, attempts to incorporate a sense of the poetic style of Neruda and other modern Latin American writers, full of pleasant figurative language and surrealistic imagery.

Middle grade readers who possess the curiosity or creative impulse of the young Neftali will find much to enjoy and identify with in this book.  This book would also serve as an excellent classroom read-aloud in association with any unit on creative writing or poetry.  Curiosity, creativity and inquiry are major themes.  Teaching applications are multifarious: potential writing prompts abound, and the text overflows with examples of figures of speech.

The book is beautifully printed in green ink (Neruda drafted his own writings in green ink, calling it “the color of hope”) with many interesting illustrations throughout.  Peter Sís’ clever and whimsical drawings occasionally stray a little too close to cloying cuteness, but their comprehendible surrealism and symbolism are well-suited for the enjoyment and intrigue of the middle grade reader, and more often than not add depth and meaningful counterpoint to the text.

Overall, this is another strong contender for the Newbery Award in 2011, and it would be surprising to this reviewer if it did not obtain at least an Honor status.

The Dreamer
Written by Pam Muñoz Ryan, Illustrated by Peter Sís
Scholastic
384 p.
ISBN: 9780439269704
Release Date: April 1, 2010

Josh’s Froz-T-Freez Explained, Briefly

As we begin a new year here at the Freez (hopefully a year of consistent content), I thought it would be an opportune time to explain both to myself and to everyone else what exactly the Froz-T-Freez is.  This is the closest we will get to a mission statement.

As you might have noticed, the Froz-T-Freez isn’t an actual drive-in; it’s only a blog.  I’m not a soda jerk, line cook, or a small business owner.  We don’t offer any food here, except perhaps the occasional recipe.

So what is the Froz-T-Freez?  The idea of the Froz-T-Freez grew out of an obsession with drive-ins, but the content you will find here encompasses many other personal obsessions: music, books, photography, art, nature, pop culture, religion, and other randomly selected cultural and natural ephemora.

The Freez is a simply a place on the web for an aspiring writer, foodie, librarian, music nerd, art appreciator, and faithful person (and to clarify, “aspiring” goes in front of all the terms on that list) to practice his writing, explore and think through things, and champion things he thinks are cool or worthwhile:  It is my personally curated library/museum/advertisement/menu of the world as I see it at the moment.

Enjoy your meal.  And please don’t mention our secret menu.  It’s not real.

For an older version of “The Froz-T-Freez Story,” in which I go off about how I wanted to run a combo record store/soda fountain, click here.

Froz-T-Freez Favorite Albums of 2010

Nothing fancy here, just my favorite albums of 2010, in alphabetical order by album title.

My Most Favorite Albums of 2010

Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti: Before Today
Vampire Weekend: Contra
No Age: Everything in Between
Jonsi: Go
Deerhunter: Halcyon Digest
Beach House: Teen Dream
Sufjan Stevens: The Age of Adz
Warpaint: The Fool
LCD Soundsystem: This Is Happening

Other Favorites of 2010

Woods: At Echo Lake
Abe Vigoda: Crush
Patty Griffin: Downtown Church
Wolf Parade: Expo 86
Broken Social Scene: Forgiveness Rock Record
Local Natives: Gorilla Manor
Laura Veirs: July Flame
Yeasayer: Odd Blood
Here We Go Magic: Pigeons
Delorean: Subiza
Arcade Fire: The Suburbs
Horse Feathers: Thistled Spring
Sleigh Bells: Treats


Notes

Of course I am always looking for more music and there is a lot of stuff from this year I haven’t heard yet, so suggestions are welcome.  Right now I’m checking out a lot of left-field electronic/hip-hop instrumental stuff like Flying Lotus, Baths, Forest Swords, etc.  Check back in a couple of days and I may be on to mainstream country again.  You just never know.  As you can see from above, though, indie rock still seems to be my home.

On Failing to Reach the Summit of Mount Timpanogos

Yesterday I attempted to hike to the top of Mt. Timpanogos, and I failed.

Sunflowers

For several years I have had the goal to reach the top of this mountain, and time and time again I have put it off, thinking the weather would not be good, or I was not in good enough shape to do it yet, or it was a holiday or Saturday and too many people would be on the trail, or there were more important things to do that day. Whatever myriad excuses.

But yesterday I decided it was time to just do it. Virginia had to work both Friday night and Saturday morning in Orem, so I suggested we camp out Friday at our little house in Provo Canyon that we are trying to sell, and that on Saturday I would hike while she worked (she is with child so this kind of hike isn’t really a temptation for her right now). To further impel me to finish the hike (so I thought), I decided that I would hike up one trail and down a different trail. So, before her work Virginia kindly double drove with me to park my car at the Timponeeke trailhead, and then dropped me off back at the Aspen Grove trailhead where I would begin my hike. I assumed I would have no cell phone usage available to me except for perhaps at the summit of the mountain, so I would have no choice but to follow through and reach my car on the other side of the mountain.

[Some background on Mt. Timpanogos: The second-tallest peak in the Wasatch mountain range, Timpanogos towers over Orem and the other Northern communities of Utah County. Numerous schools, businesses and even an LDS temple in the area are named after the mountain. The hike up Timp is extremely popular; I easily encountered 50-100 other hikers during the several hours I was on the trail yesterday. For more info on the hike, some great descriptions and photos of both trails to the summit of Timp can be found here.]

The main difference between the two Timpanogos trails is that the Aspen Grove trail is shorter but steeper, while the Timponeeke trail is longer but allegedly more moderate a climb. Against all my prior daydreaming and planning, I decided yesterday morning that I would begin at the Aspen Grove trailhead. Descending steep terrain is hard on my knees and I don’t find it very fun, so I decided I would climb the steep trail and descend on the more moderate trail.

So I began my hike. I didn’t see anyone on the trail for the first 30 minutes or so. I passed the two waterfalls and left other people there to gawk at them and take pictures. It was 10 AM and I still had a long way to go to and must be on my way.

As I later stopped under the shade of a pine tree for my first real break at 1.5 miles or so, I began to encounter people coming down the mountain. They were almost universally younger than me, most of them probably BYU and UVU students. For one of the first times in my life I became fully cognizant of the reality that, at 30 years old, I am not in the same peer group as these kids, and at this point in my life I would never be mistaken for a college student. I’m an old man now. In retrospect this realization may have added “weight,” as it were, to my pack for the rest of the trip. I don’t know.

I continued on. For a half hour or so I totally zoned out from the trail. Suddenly the terrain changed and I realized I had traveled a fair distance without even paying attention. This made me happy because I thought it meant I had found some kind of rhythm, which could only bode well for my journey. Having once again noticed my surroundings, I stopped to take a look at the impending topography. From the outset of the hike I had noticed this imposing, impossibly high cliff ahead of the trail. I had actually noticed this feature many times while simply driving by the area on the Alpine Loop road. Most hikes I am acquainted with rely on some sort of side canyon or fork to lead the hiker up to the summit, and I had taken it for granted that this hike would be the same. Now as I looked at my environment and tried to determine where the trail would next take me, I saw that there were no side canyons ahead, no ridge to go around; I was already on the side of this cliff and there were only more switchbacks up this cliff ahead. It was the path of the trail, and it was unavoidable.

The long, gradual switchbacks that I coasted through had ended and now the steep climbing began in earnest. In places it was hard to tell what was the regular trail, what was a shortcut trail, and what was a dried up stream cascade or waterfall. People began passing me on a regular basis, some of them scurrying up or down steep shortcuts with which I wanted to have no business. I was slowing up. I had to stop a lot. I heard people above me on the trail, far away but directly above me, still on these same switchbacks on this same cliff.

I sat down on a rock and drank. People passed me. I ate a sandwich. People passed me. I stood up and walked about five steps, and found I wanted to stop again and look. I did this several more times, gaining an altitude over the course of 20 minutes that others had attained in a mere 1-2 minutes. I turned on my cell phone to check the time, and I beheld full bars with 3G? Was this a trick? It was 12:45 PM. At my one-step-per-minute rate, I knew that even if I did manage to push through and get to the meeting-place of the Aspen Grove and Timponeeke trails (all hope of reaching the summit had evaporated at this point), it could well be midnight by the time I reached my car on the other side. My wife would be off work in less than an hour. If I turned around it would not mean attempting to hitch a ride on the Alpine Loop with some shameful tale of slothfulness and failure (that’s what I have this blog for, after all); I could just call my wife to come save me!

And so that is what I did. I made it back down off the mountain safe and healthy, save some serious sunburn. TOTAL FAILURE. And yet, I had hiked enough steep miles to have more than answered any number of other hikes with a summit reached and unqualified success on the return. Mt. Olympus, for example. So where was my failure? Failure to pick the right trail? Failure to plan appropriately? Failure to persevere? Failure to bring a caffeinated drink with me?

TO BE CONTINUED, hopefully . . .

Cheeseburger Chill Smoothie

Yesterday I came to you extolling the potential wonders of the Thai burrito.  Indeed, the Thai burrito is for me a palpable and inspirational symbol of hope for the cross-culinary fast food fusion that will occur through the delicious menu of the theoretical Froz-T-Freez Drive-In.  However, something came to my awareness that has made me step back and re-evaluate whether this fusion I so dearly long for is an unqualified good, desirable and beneficial in all situations.  Even as I gloried once again yesterday in the potentials of deep-fried cross-polination, even as I went to lunch today with the intention of getting a black raspberry shake from the local burger drive-through and a carnitas burrito from the local Mexican drive-through and eating them together as if part of the same meal from the same place, I was unaware that my utopian dreams of fusion could be turned to more sinister, diabolical ends.  But this commercial changes everything.

As you can imagine, this commercial brought up many challenging questions to the proprietor of a theoretical drive-in.  Is this product real or are we being tricked?  Do I dare to eat one?  Will it make me vomit?  Will it be a delicious new taste sensation?  Are they going to start frying up burgers at this place just to blend them up, or will they outsource burger production, and if so where will the burgers come from?  What will the long-term ramifications of this new product be for my Platonic drive-in?  Should I try to make one myself?

I haven’t yet worked my way entirely through all of these questions yet, but I will recommend a place where you can begin to find the answers:  http://cheeseburgerchill.com/

Thai Burrito

The last experience I had with Guru’s was eight or nine years ago. I had just returned to Salt Lake City after having spent two years in Ohio, and everywhere I looked there was this new restaurant; it seemed to have proliferated the entire Salt Lake Valley, popping up particularly in hip neighborhoods like 9th and 9th and the Avenues. It appeared very much the cool place to go, almost as cool as Cafe Rio at the time, and their menu looked like Noodles & Company, Cafe Rio and Rumbi all fused together (this was back when there was only the Skyline Cafe Rio in Salt Lake, and Rumbi was only one tiny place called Rumbi’s in a strip mall on 400 South). If I remember correctly Guru’s had metal covered tables, concrete floors, and open rafters exposing the building guts above you, much like Chipotle (a favorite establishment of mine that had been flourishing as the only decent Mexican food place in Ohio, but that had at that point not yet made the jump into the Utah market). Besides everything being so of the moment, Guru’s had a great gimmick: these cheesy faux-Eastern inspirational quotes about being at one with the universe because you ate some tofu or vegetables or something were revealed on the bottom of your plate as you finished your meal.

Guru’s wanted to be everything to everyone, and I really wanted to like them, but there was one little problem: their food sucked. I gave them several tries (their menu was so promising and diverse), but when they gave me a bad fish burrito that made me sick, that was the end of my long-suffering. I never went back. Within six months or so, all the locations of Guru’s had closed, and I felt quite vindicated. Feel good sayings and promising menus couldn’t compensate for lousy food forever.

Imagine my surprise when, eight years later, I discover there is a fully alive and operating Guru’s Cafe right on Center Street in downtown Provo, Utah. Imagine my further surprise when the menu looks similar to and even expanded upon that of the ghastly Guru’s of old, and when I see that it is a popular and thriving establishment, alive to the point of advertising of poetry readings and live music nights. So strange. I lived for a year and a half in the general Provo area, but I never brought myself to the place, although I readily admit that if not for my knowledge of their former franchise empire in Salt Lake it would have been high on my list of local places to try.

But last week, while at the BYU Books for Young Readers conference at the Provo City Library a few blocks away, I was convinced by a friend to go to Guru’s for lunch. I consoled myself, thinking that if this Guru’s was still alive and bustling eight years after the demise of all their other locations, there must be something different about it, something good. I decided to trust the good people of Provo for keeping the business alive.

We walked in; there was a significant ordering line, and the girl at the cashier was chatty with everyone and taking her time. As we slowly approached the counter, there, written in chalk on their specials board, was one of the most mythical of foods on the mythical menu of the mythical Froz-T-Freez Drive-In Diner: the THAI BURRITO. I was filled with wonder, horror, all-around shock. It was not without trepidation that I ordered this mystical burrito of my dreams from the very restaurant that long ago had become my nemesis.

So, what was it? Grilled tofu, green beans, squash, edamame, tomatoes, onions, brown rice, and peanut sauce all rolled in a whole wheat tortilla.

How was it? Not bad. Not bad at all. I maybe would have preferred some chicken to the tofu, and it could have used more of the peanut sauce, but it was quite edible.

A long-maligned business establishment had been redeemed in my eyes, but far more importantly, another Froz-T-Freez menu item has become a reality. At the ‘Freez of course we would experiment with various currys, sauces and other ingredients, but a workable prototype is in place. My dream of the burrito as a food vehicle that crosses all cultural and culinary boundaries can and will indeed become a reality.

How’s that for inspiration? I was so distracted I didn’t even read the saying displayed on the bottom of my plate, but know that I forgive you, Guru’s Cafe, and I am at one with you. Oh, and your sweet potato fries with spicy fry sauce are pretty good, too. But everybody’s doing the sweet potato fry thing now.

Inconspicuous Consumption

Collections

Is it really weird that I use a number of social media sites more for some sort of personal record keeping than for actual socializing and networking?  Am I alone in engaging in this type of activity?  Are you not sure what I am asking?  Here are two examples that I feel are pertinent:

1. I have only one friend on Gowalla, one of several location-based social networking apps that are battling it out for user adoption right now.  This one friend of mine lives two states away from me, so it is not likely that we will see that we are in the same neighborhood at the same time and meet up for lunch or something.  Nevertheless, for a few weeks now I’ve been checking in my locations with that service semi-faithfully.   I like how it gives me a fun little icon “stamp” on my “passport” whenever I visit a new location, and I like to look back over all the locations I’ve been recently and think about places I might go soon.  I’ve even added several new venues to the Gowalla system, and I recently reported a problem to their customer service when I discovered that some of their venues in Provo, UT were labeled as being in Springville, UT.

2. I don’t know a single soul in my real life that uses last.fm, a music-based social networking app that pulls played tracks from iTunes and other digital music players.  Using the stats of those pays, it compiles charts showing what you and everyone else on the system listen to most, creates recommendations and custom listening streams for you, shows you how much you have musically in common with any other user, etc.   I watch the charts of my own weekly listening with fascination. I ensure that all of my iPod and iTunes plays are faithfully transmitted to the site, even if, and perhaps especially if, I listened to an album on vinyl or CD (in which case some quick tracking-through in iTunes or on my iPod is afterward required to “get credit” for my listening.)  I have no clue if anyone else has ever looked at these charts, and yet I think about them a great deal.

Of course I would love to have more friends (or any friends) involved in these sites, but they just aren’t there.  (Please feel free to join any of them and there declare your friendship for me.)  But even without friends to share my info with, I think I will happily continue to use these sites.  With or without a sharing audience, one may of course describe this as geeky behavior, and I would for the most part agree with you.  However, I am going to argue that this geeky element of social networking extends far and wide, even in places that on the surface seem much more social, and that it is simply the latest manifestation of a very old and renowned geek activity.

On social media services in which I do have a number of friends, I still find that, more often than not, we end up sharing most of our information with each other through conversations rather than through the interface of the site.  While using the site, although sharing with each other, we are all basically talking to ourselves when we don’t pay attention to what our friends are sharing with us.  I have many work friends on Goodreads.  Even though I rather faithfully update my account with what I am currently reading, what I have read, and what I want to read, and so do several of my friends, I find that more often than not this information tends to be shared while visiting someone’s cubicle to discuss a work issue, or during a telephone call with a librarian in a school.  They don’t seem to know that I put that book up on my Goodreads already,  or I am oblivious to what book they just put on their Goodreads.  Many of us do spend time on Goodreads, but it is usually to organize, explore, and read reviews by strangers, apparently not so much to interact with and look at what our friends are reading.

And now let’s be honest with ourselves; in certain cases this same lack of sociality goes for the juggernaut, that most social of media, even the dread Facebook.  Stop and ask yourself these questions, if you haven’t before:

1. Have you ever logged into Facebook and not actually interacted directly with another person?

Perhaps you are there to play a game, or perhaps you updated your status but didn’t make any response or comment to anyone else.  It’s okay to admit it.  I know I’ve done it.

2.How many people have you friended on Facebook and never yet had a conversation with on Facebook?

I know I’m not the only one that does this, because a lot of people have done it to me, too.  I’m quite okay with it, but I find it an interesting phenomenon.  Uncles, old roommates, cousins-in-law, work colleagues, and kids we sat by in classes in high school: we friend them and then they only sit there in our little box of friends.  Perhaps we look at their photos and see if they ever got married or had kids or whatever, and maybe they pop up in our news feeds every once in a while asking us for help planting Enchanted Kumquat Bushes on their DesertIslandVille, but in many cases we never really interact with each other until the next extended family get-together, or when we run into each other randomly at a store, or never really at all.

So if my theory is correct and we are often not all that interested in interacting with people on social media sites, and we engage in these activities and games whether or not anyone else is actually paying attention to what we are doing, what is going on with all this “sharing” on social networking sites and why do we do it?

Here’s one reason I’ve come up with.  I’ve determined that one of the underlying compulsions that motivates my continued usage of social networking sites is a longstanding propensity to collect.   Many of these sites and services allow us to collect and quantify and share things that have previously not been collectable.  Actions, relationships, feelings, almost anything ephemeral or abstract can be commoditized or can be made into an item that can kept, recorded, or transferred, shown to others forever after. Here is my collection of friends, family, and acquaintances.  Here is my collection of places I’ve been.  Here are my favorite restaurants.  Here are all the books I have read in the past year.  Here is the music I listen to the most.  Here are all the jobs and skills I have collected in the past five years.  Here are the games I play and how well I do at them.  Here are the movies I watched last month.  Here are the people and organizations that I admire.  Here is what I read in the newspaper today.  Lookit!

Instead of rocks, stamps or Precious Moments figurines, we can now collect all these little icons that represent little pieces of our lives.  We then use and share all these things in an attempt to define ourselves, or to attempt to dictate how we should be defined or perceived by others.  And now people don’t even need to come over to our house to see what books we have, or wait for us to go get that special shoebox out from under our beds.  It’s all out there for them to look at if they are interested.

Another aspect of this collecting that I’ve been thinking about is to what extent this desire to share or the anticipation of sharing something effects what choices we make on where we go, what we do, what we eat, what we read, etc, even if we are not quite consciously thinking about whether anyone else is paying attention to our collections.  In my case I think it does sometimes affect what I do, but not necessarily in a bad way.  When I get involved in these services regularly there follows a self-consciousness and an accountability that I think is mostly positive in forcing me to not get too habitual, to try new things, to finish reading that book, to not eat lunch at Wendy’s or in the cafeteria every day, etc.  It seems to work regardless of whether anyone is actually paying attention or not.

Of course if these activities were only about showing other people then I could just as easily be tempted to start lying about things.  But collections have never been entirely about sharing or showing off.  Many of our collections are entirely for our own benefit, and never get shared with much of anyone.  And that’s why we keep doing these things online, even if no one is watching.  We collect mainly for ourselves, because our collections please us.  However, I think even the most private of collectors with the most obscure of items has that small hope or daydream that one day the collection will someday be seen by someone else who will truly appreciate it.  Our collections, like journals and photographs, always have some audience in mind, even if entirely theoretical.  When we put our collections online, that audience may be out there somewhere right now.

I know there are also other reasons and desires that lead us to engage in social media networks, but I think this desire to collect, consume and display people, actions, places, words and feelings, now transmuted into electronic trading cards, is a definite reality.

So, what do you think?  Are you collecting your friends?  Did you go somewhere just to be able to say you went there?  I want to hear about it.

I am going to close with a link to a nice little song by Here We Go Magic, off their recent album Pigeons.  The song is called “Collector,” and seemed quite appropriate.

Here We Go Magic – Collector (link to download MP3)
[audio:http://froztfreez.com/audio/collector.mp3]

Some people collect pigeons, you know.