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Are.na Blog / Workshop Debrief: How to Use the Internet Mindfully
"Last weekend I got to collaborate with Willa Köerner of The Creative Independent (TCI) to facilitate a workshop at IAM Weekend, called “How to Use the Internet Mindfully.” The workshop built on an essay series TCI and Are.na published together last year, which asked a group of artists to reflect on the habits and philosophies that help them contend with the online attention economy. This time we wanted to do something similar in person, in a space where creative internet people could talk about our feelings together.

We asked participants to complete a worksheet designed to help them get a better handle on their internet and technology habits. (You can download the worksheet if you’d like to try this—it takes about 35 minutes to complete). The first step was making a mind map of one’s various screen-based activities. Using different colors, everyone then labeled those activities as either harmful or helpful on a personal level. Finally, people jotted down a few “relationship goals” between them and the Internet and brainstormed practical steps for building up their personal agency.

We spent the last part of the workshop sharing results with one another and thinking about reclaiming the web as an intimate, creative social space. Lots of interesting ideas emerged in our conversation, so I want to highlight a few things here that stood out in particular:

1. We often have mixed feelings about certain tools (and specific ways of using those tools). For example, posting to Instagram can be an exploratory and rewarding creative process. But the anxiety about “likes” that comes afterward usually feels empty and harmful. It’s hard to reconcile these opposing feelings within the realm of personal behavior. While we know that we’re ultimately in control of our own behavior, we also know that apps like Instagram are designed to promote certain patterns of use. We don’t want to quit altogether, but we’re struggling to swim against the current of “persuasive” tech.

2. We don’t have enough spaces for talking about the emotional side effects of living with the web. Before we really dug into strategies for using the Internet more mindfully, participants really wanted to share their feelings about social media, Internet burnout, and how the two are connected. We talked about mental health and how hard it is to feel in control of apps that are essentially designed for dependency. We discussed how few of us feel happy with our habits, even though everyone’s experience is different. We wondered about the stigma that surrounds any form of “addiction,” and whether it’s ok to talk about widespread Internet use in those terms. I’m really glad these questions bubbled up, since they helped build enough trust in the room to share the more personal elements of each person’s mind map.

3. We all want to feel personal autonomy, which takes many different forms. We had a lively exchange about different ways to limit the amount of digital junk food we allow ourselves to consume. Apple’s new screen-time tracker was one example that drew mixed responses. Some people felt that a subtle reminder helped, while others felt it was totally ineffective. Some preferred to impose a hard limit on themselves through a tool like Self Control, while others rejected the premise of measuring screen time in the first place. A lot of participants focused on wanting to control their own experience, whether by owning one’s own content or simply feeling enough agency to decide how to navigate the web. We talked a bit about the dilemma of feeling like our decision-making psychology has been “hacked” by addictive design, and how crappy it feels to replace our own intuition with another technical solution. We also acknowledged that setting our own boundaries means spending even more time and emotional capital than our apps have already taken from us. That additional effort is labor we consumers complete for free, even if we don’t usually see it that way.

4. The web feels too big for healthy interaction. We also talked about how using mainstream social media platforms these days can feel like shouting into a giant room with everyone else on Earth. Many of the healthy spaces where participants felt they could genuinely share ideas were ones where they put considerable time and emotional labor into building an intimate social context. People had a lot to say about the fact that users are locked in to their online personas with all kinds of personal and professional incentives. You simply can’t stop looking, or downsize your social circles, or abandon your long-term presence, without breaking an informal social contract you never realized you signed.

The context of the conference also made me think about how we frame the work we put into our relationship with technology. When we get in front of a group, what kind of “solutions” should we be advocating? At what point to individual strategies lead to politics and advocacy?

When you focus on personal habits for long enough, it’s easy to process societal issues as problems originating in your own behavior. But as with other kinds of “self-help,” this is a framing that ignores a grotesque power dynamic. Addiction and burnout are not only matters of consumer choice, but the costs of business decisions made by enormous technology companies. The tech industry – like big tobacco and big oil – has knowingly caused a set of serious social problems and then pushed the work of remediating them onto individual consumers. Now it’s up to users to defend themselves with tools like browser plug-ins and VPNs and finstas and time trackers. As we keep talking about using the internet mindfully, I hope we can connect the dots between this kind of individual action and the larger project of securing universal rights to privacy, anonymity, and personal autonomy. By asking ourselves which tools we want to use, and how we want to use them, hopefully we can open up a broader conversation about how we move beyond surveillance capitalism itself.

I’d be interested in talking more about these connections between individual and collective actions if we get to repeat the workshop. It would be great to work with a smaller group, simplify the worksheet slightly, and get really specific about what questions we’re trying to answer. I’d like to draw on a few other ways of thinking as well, like the Human Systems framework for example. If you’d be interested in collaborating, or just have thoughts on any of this, please send one of us an email: leo@are.na or willa@kickstarter.com. We’d love to hear your thoughts."
internet  mindfulness  are.na  2019  leoshaw  willaköerner  web  online  autonomy  technology  politics  advocacy  browsers  extensions  plug-ins  vpns  finstas  trackers  surveillancecapitalism  surveillance  self-help  power  socialmedia  presence  socialcontract  attention  psychology  burnout  addiction  instagram  creativity  likes  behavior 
april 2019 by robertogreco
Final Boss Form — Even though we are now free from the machines that...
"Even though we are now free from the machines that enslaved and exploited people during the industrial age, digital apparatuses are installing new constraints, new slavery. Because of their mobility, they make possible exploitation that proves even more efficient, by transforming every space into a workplace - and all time into working hours.

The freedom of movement is switching over into a fatal compulsion to work everywhere. During the machine age, working time could be held in check and separated from periods of not-working, if only because the machines could not move, or be moved. One had to go to work on one’s own: this space was distinct from where work did not occur.

Today, however, this distinction no longer holds in many professions. Digital devices have mobilized work itself. The workplace is turning into a portable labor camp, from which there is no escape.

The smartphone promises more freedom, but it radiates a fatal compulsion - the compulsion to communicate. Now an almost obsessive, compulsive relationship to digital devices prevails. Here, too, “freedom” is switching over into compulsion and constraint. Social networks magnify such compulsion to communicate, on a massive scale. More communication means more capital. In turn, the accelerated circulation of communication and information leads to the accelerated circulation of Capital.

The word “digital” points to the finger (digitus). Above all, the finger counts. Digital culture is based on the counting finger. In contrast, history means recounting. It is not a matter of counting, which represents a post-historical category. Neither information nor tweets yield a whole, an account. A timeline does not recount the story of a life, either; it provides no biography. Timelines are additive, not narrative.

Digital man “fingers” the world, in that he is always counting and calculating. The digital absolutizes numbers and counting. More than anything, friends on Facebook are counted, yet real friendship is an account, a narrative. The digital age is totalizing addition, counting, and the countable. Even affection and attachments get counted - as “likes.” The narrative dimension is losing meaning on a massive scale. Today, everything is rendered countable so that it can be transformed into the language of performance, and efficiency.

As such, whatever resists being counted ceases to “be.”"

—Byung-Chul Han, In The Swarm: Digital Prospects
digital  quantitative  quantification  byung-chulhan  machines  industrialization  narrative  relationships  scale  being  presence  numbers  counting  measurement  friendship  facebook  metrics  affection  attachments  likes  meaning  capitalism  information  exploitation  mobility  work  labor  freedom  movement  compulsion  communication  constraint  socialnetworking  socialnetworks  timelines 
january 2018 by robertogreco
You Have a New Memory - Long View on Education
"Last night I nearly cleaned out my social media presence on Instagram as I’ve used it about 6 times in two years. More generally, I want to pull back on any social media that isn’t adding to my life (yeah, Facebook, I’m talking about you). Is there anything worth staying on Instagram for? I know students use it to show off the photographic techniques they learn in their digital photography class. When I scrolled through to see what photos have been posted from the location of our school, I was caught by a very striking image that represents a view out of a classroom.

One of the most striking things about Instagram is how students engage with it (likes) way more than they do our school Twitter stream. I care about where their engagement happens since in the last two days of learning conferences, many students told me that they got their news through Snapchat. But neither Instagram nor Snapchat are where I have the interactions that I value.

This poses a serious challenge for teaching media literacy, but also for teaching the more traditional forms of text. With my Grade 9s, we have been reading and crafting memoirs. How does their construction of ephemeral memoirs on Snapchat and curated collections of memories on Instagram shape both how they write and see themselves?

Even though I understand how Snapchat works, I will never understand what it’s like to feel the draw of streaks or notifications. And with Instagram, I’m well past a point where I’m drawn to construct images that vie for hundreds of likes. I’m simply not shaped by these medias in the same way.

Beyond different medias, students really carry around different devices than I do, even though they may both be called iPhones. Few of them read the news on it or need to sift through work emails. But in both cases, these devices form the pathway to a public presentation of self, which is something that I struggle with on many levels. I’m happy to be out here in public intellectual mode sharing and criticizing ideas, and to reflect on my teaching and share what my students are doing, and to occasionally put out parts of my personal life, but I resent the way that platforms work to combine all of those roles into one public individual.

Just this morning, I received the most bizarre notification from my Apple Photos: “You Have a New Memory”. So, even in the relatively private space between my stored photos and my screen, algorithms give birth to new things I need to be made aware of. Notified. How I go about opting out of social media now seems like an easier challenge than figuring out how I withdraw from the asocial nudges that emerge from my own archives."
2017  benjamindoxtdator  instagram  twitter  facebook  algorithms  memory  memories  photography  presentationofself  apple  iphone  smartphones  technology  teaching  education  edtech  medialiteracy  engagement  snapchat  ephemerality  text  memoirs  notifications  likes  favorites  ephemeral 
october 2017 by robertogreco
Teju Cole on Instagram: “Seminyak, October 2015. Let like be the emotion and "like" be the Instagram action, the double tap on the picture or the single tap on the blank heart. For some of you, I like that you post, I like the fact of your posting. Rela
"_tejucole:

Seminyak, October 2015.
Let like be the emotion and "like" be the Instagram action, the double tap on the picture or the single tap on the blank heart. For some of you, I like that you post, I like the fact of your posting. Related but not at all the same, I like everything you post (you know who you are). I don't "like" everything anyone posts in part because I want to be able to find things in the "likes" later. I "like" in order to indicate that I like, or to note, or to encourage, or as a thank you. I don't hate-"like." For some of you, I don't like what you post generally, maybe your style doesn't appeal, but I'll "like" a photo you post that I like. I think of a repost as a kind of "superlike" of certain pairings of word and image. Sometimes if I like something a lot, I can't "like" it, because it's too close to my skin. Sometimes, when something makes my spinal cord throb, I'll 🌟 it as well as "like" it, almost helplessly and inadvertently, like a monkey in a psychological experiment.

If someone should "like" something I post, I don't mentally interrogate their "like"—I simply prefer to assume that they like the picture, the words, the sequence of images I've been presenting, or me, which all comes to the same thing, at least at that moment. I notice how many "likes" a given post of mine receives, up to a certain minimum (which I will not reveal), beyond which a shit I giveth not. A "like" from certain people (you know who you are, except for those of you who don't) I mentally calculate as ten ordinary civilian "likes." I seldom but sometimes post with "likes" in mind, either to garner "likes" or to stymie them. I never shoot with "likes" in mind.
#_thehive

giache_I:

'superlike' your writings on this activity and these relations of Instagram ✨✨✨

jetudier:

(is it a function of this medium & platform, that I came to at the age that I did, or pure whimsy, that I find the need to write rather than double tap.. this I went private for just such reasons. to not care or be distracted but I find that a tension still exists .. thinking aloud bout this essay. thank you :)

simplymoraa:

On this one my "like" was primarily for the writing.

creetilda:

And I love you.

achp__:

I assumed your liking politics were very specific, but I didn't imagine they'd be that specific. For me, I try to like less and observe more. Sometimes I can't be bothered, and don't like nor observe, and it makes me wonder about the use I do of this space.

1001sarahs:

🌟✨🌟✨🌟
_tejucole:

@achp__ My liking poetics, you mean. 😬 What I realize is also that one likes here, the same way an author signs book. It is one understood (and largely friendly) form of exchange. Until I published books, I hated getting books signed, much less contemplating signing them myself. The purity of literature was the thing! Then things changed and I did too."

[Continued: https://www.instagram.com/p/BBsHGZvvVtv/

"_tejucole

Ubud, October 2015. Within the system of likes which cannot be turned off, and which implicitly sets up a rivalry not only among one photographer's photos, but between different photographers, lending a mild but never to be mentioned element of anxiety into the presentation of every photo, certain forms of sequencing are imperiled. Repetition is imperiled, slow shifts of photographic phase are imperiled. No one imposes these rules. It's only that Instagram, like any society, has unspoken notions of good behavior, of behavior worthy of reward (and even how that reward is to be assessed: relative to total follower count: a hundred likes has different meanings depending on who's getting it). At direct odds with our individual interests in exploration is our individual talent for popularity. "This one will get plenty of likes" is a thought many of us have had, and not always happily. Read the terrain. Certain work can happen here. Certain work cannot happen here.
#_thehive"
tejucole  likes  liking  favorites  favoriting  faves  socialmedia  2016  instagram  psychology  gamification  terrain  behavior  popularity  motivation  photography  writing  whywewrite  whyweshare  socialdynamics  anxiety  rivalry 
february 2016 by robertogreco
Bret Easton Ellis on Living in the Cult of Likability - The New York Times
"On a recent episode of the television series “South Park,” the character Cartman and other townspeople who are enthralled with Yelp, the app that lets customers rate and review restaurants, remind maître d’s and waiters that they will be posting reviews of their meals. These “Yelpers” threaten to give the eateries only one star out of five if they don’t please them and do exactly as they say. The restaurants feel that they have no choice but to comply with the Yelpers, who take advantage of their power by asking for free dishes and making suggestions on improving the lighting. The restaurant employees tolerate all this with increasing frustration and anger — at one point Yelp reviewers are even compared to the Islamic State group — before both parties finally arrive at a truce. Yet unknown to the Yelpers, the restaurants decide to get their revenge by contaminating the Yelpers’ plates with every bodily fluid imaginable.

The point of the episode is that today everyone thinks that they’re a professional critic (“Everyone relies on my Yelp reviews!”), even if they have no idea what they’re talking about. But it’s also a bleak commentary on what has become known as the “reputation economy.” In depicting the restaurants’ getting their revenge on the Yelpers, the episode touches on the fact that services today are also rating us, which raises a question: How will we deal with the way we present ourselves online and in social media, and how do individuals brand themselves in what is a widening corporate culture?

The idea that everybody thinks they’re specialists with voices that deserve to be heard has actually made everyone’s voice less meaningful. All we’re doing is setting ourselves up to be sold to — to be branded, targeted and data-mined. But this is the logical endgame of the democratization of culture and the dreaded cult of inclusivity, which insists that all of us must exist under the same umbrella of corporate regulation — a mandate that dictates how we should express ourselves and behave.

Most people of a certain age probably noticed this when they joined their first corporation, Facebook, which has its own rules regarding expressions of opinion and sexuality. Facebook encouraged users to “like” things, and because it was a platform where many people branded themselves on the social Web for the first time, the impulse was to follow the Facebook dictum and present an idealized portrait of their lives — a nicer, friendlier, duller self. And it was this burgeoning of the likability cult and the dreaded notion of “relatability” that ultimately reduced everyone to a kind of neutered clockwork orange, enslaved to the corporate status quo. To be accepted we have to follow an upbeat morality code where everything must be liked and everybody’s voice respected, and any person who has a negative opinion — a dislike — will be shut out of the conversation. Anyone who resists such groupthink is ruthlessly shamed. Absurd doses of invective are hurled at the supposed troll to the point that the original “offense” often seems negligible by comparison.

I’ve been rated and reviewed since I became a published author at the age of 21, so this environment only seems natural to me. A reputation emerged based on how many reviewers liked or didn’t like my book. That’s the way it goes — cool, I guess. I was liked as often as I was disliked, and that was OK because I didn’t get emotionally involved. Being reviewed negatively never changed the way I wrote or the topics I wanted to explore, no matter how offended some readers were by my descriptions of violence and sexuality. As a member of Generation X, rejecting, or more likely ignoring, the status quo came easily to me. One of my generation’s loudest anthems was Joan Jett’s “Bad Reputation,” whose chorus rang out: “I don’t give a damn about my reputation/ I’ve never been afraid of any deviation.” I was a target of corporate-think myself when the company that owned my publishing house decided it didn’t like the contents of a particular novel I had been contracted to write and refused to publish it on the grounds of “taste.” (I could have sued but another publisher who liked the book published it instead.) It was a scary moment for the arts — a conglomerate was deciding what should and should not be published and there were loud arguments and protests on both sides of the divide. But this was what the culture was about: People could have differing opinions and discuss them rationally. You could disagree and this was considered not only the norm but interesting as well. It was a debate. This was a time when you could be opinionated — and, yes, a questioning, reasonable critic — and not be considered a troll.

Now all of us are used to rating movies, restaurants, books, even doctors, and we give out mostly positive reviews because, really, who wants to look like a hater? But increasingly, services are also rating us. Companies in the sharing economy, like Uber and Airbnb, rate their customers and shun those who don’t make the grade. Opinions and criticisms flow in both directions, causing many people to worry about how they’re measuring up. Will the reputation economy put an end to the culture of shaming or will the bland corporate culture of protecting yourself by “liking” everything — of being falsely polite just to be accepted by the herd — grow stronger than ever? Giving more positive reviews to get one back? Instead of embracing the true contradictory nature of human beings, with all of their biases and imperfections, we continue to transform ourselves into virtuous robots. This in turn has led to the awful idea — and booming business — of reputation management, where a firm is hired to help shape a more likable, relatable You. Reputation management is about gaming the system. It’s a form of deception, an attempt to erase subjectivity and evaluation through intuition, for a price.

Ultimately, the reputation economy is about making money. It urges us to conform to the blandness of corporate culture and makes us react defensively by varnishing our imperfect self so we can sell and be sold things. Who wants to share a ride or a house or a doctor with someone who doesn’t have a good online reputation? The reputation economy depends on everyone maintaining a reverentially conservative, imminently practical attitude: Keep your mouth shut and your skirt long, be modest and don’t have an opinion. The reputation economy is yet another example of the blanding of culture, and yet the enforcing of groupthink has only increased anxiety and paranoia, because the people who embrace the reputation economy are, of course, the most scared. What happens if they lose what has become their most valuable asset? The embrace of the reputation economy is an ominous reminder of how economically desperate people are and that the only tools they have to raise themselves up the economic ladder are their sparklingly upbeat reputations — which only adds to their ceaseless worry over their need to be liked.

Empowerment doesn’t come from liking this or that thing, but from being true to our messy contradictory selves. There are limits to showcasing our most flattering assets because no matter how genuine and authentic we think we are, we’re still just manufacturing a construct, no matter how accurate it may be. What is being erased in the reputation economy are the contradictions inherent in all of us. Those of us who reveal flaws and inconsistencies become terrifying to others, the ones to avoid. An “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”-like world of conformity and censorship emerges, erasing the opinionated and the contrarian, corralling people into an ideal. Forget the negative or the difficult. Who wants solely that? But what if the negative and the difficult were attached to the genuinely interesting, the compelling, the unusual? That’s the real crime being perpetrated by the reputation culture: stamping out passion; stamping out the individual."
socialmedia  facebook  culture  2015  likeability  presentationofself  breteastonellis  online  internet  conservatism  via:rushtheiceberg  uber  relatability  genx  generationx  ratings  criticism  critics  yelp  society  authenticity  liking  likes  reputation  data  biases  imperfections  subjectivity  virtue  anxiety  sharingeconomy  paranoia  blandness  invention  risktaking  conformity  censorship  groupthink 
december 2015 by robertogreco
Video: Generation Like | Watch FRONTLINE Online | PBS Video
[Somehow forgot to bookmark this back in February.]

"Thanks to social media, teens are able to directly interact with their culture -- celebrities, movies, brands -- in ways never before possible. But is that real empowerment? Or do marketers hold the upper hand? In "Generation Like," Douglas Rushkoff explores how the teen quest for identity has migrated to the web -- and exposes the game of cat-and-mouse that corporations are playing with them."

[See also:
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/generation-like/
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/media/generation-like/transcript-57/
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1gmgXxB9QiA
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/generation-like/
http://paleofuture.gizmodo.com/generation-like-the-kids-sell-out-but-dont-know-what-1524517417 ]
generationlike  2014  media  online  web  youth  teens  likes  liking  labor  advertising  facebook  douglasrushkoff  tyleroakley  alissaquart  oliverluckett  kurtwagner  markandrejevic  allisonarling-giorgi  danahboyd  popculutre  society  consumerism  work  celebrity  microcelebrities  youtube  marketing  identity  sellingout  merchantsofcool  presentationofself  exploitation  digital  onlinemedia  socialmedia  socialnetworking  profiles  socialnetworks  tumblr  twitter  hungergames  empowerment  fandom 
october 2014 by robertogreco
Save the Fav, Twitter's Digital Body Language - NYTimes.com
"On Twitter, faving a tweet politely communicates that you saw the message. If you say nothing else, it is a polite, one-button way to end the conversation without actually saying you want to end the conversation. If email or instant messaging had faves, we would be saved a lot of unnecessary messages saying, “Got it!” or “Hah, good one.”

But more than just a tepid goodbye, the fav allows each side to come away with different impressions of how the conversation went. I could hit “favorite” to signal “I’m bored. I want to stop talking to you.” But you could read my fav to mean “That was fun, but I gotta go!” In the end everyone wins, because we all read faves in the most self-flattering light.

There are all kinds of situations in which this sort of double meaning comes in handy. You don’t really find my joke funny, but you don’t want to hurt my feelings? Fav it; I’ll interpret it as a hearty LOL.

You want to kiss up to a superior who keeps posting banal New Age quotations? Fav her; you can always plausibly deny any sycophancy to your colleagues, because a fav doesn’t mean anything.

You may wonder why should we celebrate doublespeak. The body language analogy is useful here. Shrugs, grunts, winks, nods, squints, eyebrow tilts — these are undefined signals, little human gestures that suggest some meaning. They’re powerful because they’re intentional, but also because they’re ambiguous.

Sometimes body language hides more than it says. But we use our bodies to do some of the talking because maintaining civility and good feelings is often necessary; for the sake of everyone, you don’t say every honest thought that pops into your head.

Twitter’s fav acquired its power only by happenstance. In its early days, the service never defined what the “favorite” button was for, leaving people free to find creative ways to use it.

The history of the fav should serve as a model for the many new chat apps popping up: They should resist overdefining every feature or making every action a signal in some kind of learning algorithm. They should add in a few extra user-interface elements that do nothing at all.
favoriting  faving  favorites  twitter  online  web  socialmedia  2014  farhadmanjoo  likes  liking 
august 2014 by robertogreco
Emptyage — About my quote in The Wire   
"I fave things because I like them, or hate them. I do it to say good job, or fuck you, or just because I want to see them again. (But I never, ever see them again.) I fave things because I want the writer to know that I know too—I fave stuff just to let people know I’ve seen it. I fave things out of obligation. I fave things because I’m bored. I fave things to be a part of something bigger than myself. I fave things because favoriting is important and society is broken and Twitter is a meaningless and empty way for me to pass the time and avoid any form of introspection that might make me a better or more productive person. I favorite things to get people’s attention. (“Take out menus left on the doors of other restaurants,” but I may be misquoting that.) I favorite things to feel less alone, and so that you’ll feel less alone too. I favorite stuff that makes me laugh. Sometimes I favorite things by accident. Fave."
favorites  favoriting  mathonan  2014  twitter  likes  liking  web  online  socialmedia  faving 
august 2014 by robertogreco
Webstock '13: Jason Kottke - I built a web app (& you can too) on Vimeo
See also: http://stellar-status.tumblr.com/post/62923078635/in-february-i-spoke-at-the-webstock-conference-in

"In February, I spoke at the Webstock conference in Wellington, New Zealand. My talk was called “I built a web app (& you can too)” and was about how I built Stellar.

In the final third of the talk, I discussed the future of the site and the difficult time I was having with my motivation. At the time, I honestly didn’t know if I would continue developing for the site or even hosting it. The process of giving the talk was very helpful in helping me figure out that, yes, I did want to keep Stellar going. My first code check-in in several months occurred just a week or two after I got back from NZ and I’ve been working steadily on it ever since.

ps. Webstock is a wonderful conference. I don’t know if they’re doing it next year or not, but if they do, you should go.

pps. Oh man, I am not a good public speaker. I’m a little embarrassed watching this, even beyond the usual “that’s what my voice sounds like?” reaction. I feel like I had a compelling story to tell, I just didn’t tell it very well. Next time — if there is a next time — I will do better."

[Also here: http://www.webstock.org.nz/talks/i-built-a-web-app-you-can-too/ ]
stellar  stellar.io  favorites  favoriting  likes  socialmedia  vimeo  flickr  tumblr  twitter  slowhunches  streams  webstock  2013  webapps  aggregation  youtube  online  internet  motivation  facebook  jasonkottke  liking  making  process  text  faving 
october 2013 by robertogreco

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