[Liked @discographies so much I interviewed him for Popten.]
Two days ago I suddenly and unexpectedly stumbled onto the greatest Twitter account I’d ever seen.
I can’t remember exactly how I was led there, but thirty seconds after landing on @discographies, I was smitten. The concept is as simple as its execution is Herculean: condensing a musician’s entire opus into 140 characters, with usually hilarious and dead-on results. I’d say that @D is the Shakespeare of Twitter, except that his process is more like James Joyce, writing a word a day (see question #4 and be humbled).
@discographies is also as secretive as can be. Usually I like to pretend that I’m meeting my Popten interviewees for cocktails at their penthouse, questions and answers batted back and forth between sips. But if this weren’t the internet, I think my interview with @discographies would’ve required me to hire a PI, leave a note with @D’s landlord, meet him behind a supermarket at 3am, and take sloppy notes as he fed me terse answers in a raspy, unidentifiable voice. (Of course, there’s the distinct possibility that @discographies is a woman.)
But this is indeed the internet, so tracking @discographies down took all of one tweet, and requesting an interview took less than 140 more characters. After his/her most gracious green light and an email to a mysterious address, here we are. Lovely to find @discographies as eloquent a long-form writer as a microblogger. Though I still have no idea who he/she is.
@discographies on Twitter
1. So who is @discographies? Are you a person, a committee? Do you have a secret identity?
A band's entire discography summed up in 140 chars. Brilliant and painstakingly crafted. All the work that goes into a single tweet- it boggles the mind. Follow @discographies
(via @bigspaceship and available here.)
Many of us have grown up thinking that if we are properly self-punishing then we are somehow being responsible. "What, I'm a nervous wreck — how could I possibly take on more?" On the other hand, if, God forbid, we are feeling carefree, we have this nagging sense that we're being downright irresponsible, certain that if we don't get right back to self-flagellation then the other shoe is going to drop. And hard. We don't correlate our sense of responsibility with what we are actually producing. We correlate it with how hard we are being on ourselves. Thus anything that's fun cannot possibly be work, and everything that's unpleasant is.I can hunch over my computer screen for half the day churning frenetically through e-mails without getting much of substance done, all the while telling myself what a loser I am, and leave at 6:00 p.m. feeling like I put in a full day. And given my level of mental fatigue, I did! I can spend my Saturday afternoon worrying about financial ruin to the point of exhaustion, and my inner critic is satisfied. But clear my mind with a 30-minute meditation, go for a 45-minute morning walk, or leave the office for an hour to decompress and get a healthy lunch — all of which would make me more productive for the day — and the voices inside my head start screaming, "Infidel!" (Those of you who don't suffer from this tendency toward self-criticism, please comment and let the rest of us know your secret.)We can trace a lot of our modern dysfunction to our Puritan roots. Historian Perry Miller wrote that "without some understanding of Puritanism...there is no understanding of America."
I'm a Senior Strategist for digital creative agency Big Spaceship, leading strategy for a number of clients including Skittles and Crayola. I wrote and produced the virtual world documentary Second Skin and am the managing editor for the pop culture blog Popten.
I'm a Senior Strategist for digital creative agency Big Spaceship, leading strategy for a number of clients including Skittles and Crayola. I wrote and produced the virtual world documentary Second Skin and am the managing editor for the pop culture blog Popten.
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