Unlike some of the common complaints launched against the “Look Back” videos, mine showed no evidence of overzealous partying, cringe-worthy status updates, photos of exes who were totally wrong for me (although “my first moments” section was oddly filled with images of other couples who have since called it quits), or even photos of unfortunate haircuts. Although it’s interesting to see some of my most liked posts appear in succession on the screen, it’s equally interesting to note what they say — work related announcements, personal or professional accomplishments, asking for tips about future travel plans – and what they don’t say. Although I’ve enjoyed some highs and endured some lows during my six-year tenure as a Facebook participant, these events don’t show up in my video. This doesn’t necessarily mean that the algorithm is faulty or that I’m not using Facebook “properly”, or that I’m “over sharing”. There’s a reason the automatically generated visualization of my Facebook history looks the way it does. I refuse to believe that it’s because I’ve aged out of knowing how to have a good time, or that nothing monumental has happened to me since I’ve joined Facebook in 2007. Instead, no matter how I choose to edit it, my Facebook anniversary video takes me through a history of the different privacy and impression management strategies I’ve employed over the years, the shifting audiences and contexts for my Facebook content, and how I’ve decided to fragment, multiply, and disperse my online identity across a variety of platforms (even though Mr. Zuckerberg and company would probably like me to stick to just one.)

For example, my “first moments” are directed toward college and close friends only, and represent a Facebook account that was strategically scrubbed (but not completely clean) when I began friending future colleagues and professors. My “most liked posts” reflect an effort to cater to an imagined audience of weak ties, as several of my college and close friends have “dropped out” of Facebook, that I don’t feel the need to perform my social ties and connections (especially with strong ties and family members) in the same way that I did when I was six years younger. All of this in addition to a growing consciousness and attentiveness to the shift in contexts and audiences that came with being on the job market and becoming a junior faculty member. The section of the video titled “photos you’ve shared” is exemplary of what danah boyd has called “social steganography” and represents noticeable changes to the types of images I post to Facebook after joining Instagram.

What’s shown in my “Look Back” video is rather humorously unrepresentative of what it aims to show. The tranquil yet swelling music, and the life cycle narrative which culminates in the camera’s lingering gaze on my current profile picture imply that the images and text displayed should be nostalgic, sentimental, a personal archive of emotionally-significant events. (This life cycle narrative is reminiscent of other Facebook features, social media and locative media apps, and other ad campaigns that emotionalize the ways that our digital technologies grow alongside us — a trope so familiar, yet undeniably touching, that it has even been fictionalized as a highly effective marketing tactic for consumer electronics in shows like Mad Men).

However, what the Facebook video exhibits is not that I somehow eschew an ideal construction of the Facebook user (although this is implied), or that I haven’t accomplished or shared enough personal information on the platform (though this might be true), but it creates an intriguing visualization that offers another window into my social media life on Facebook, and other platforms by comparison. Is it a “success”? I guess that depends on who’s asking and why, but at least for me, the “Look Back” feature serves as a moment to pause and examine my life not as a daughter, significant other, friend, scholar, etc., but as a Facebook participant and to reflect on what the company expects and hopes its users do, and how we’ve negotiated those expectations.

There have always been intentional and unintentional errors in maps. Communities, colonizers, and copyright holders have intentionally altered geographic representations in the name of pride, protection, artistic interpretation, or in order to represent and justify certain unequal power relations. For example, the British government is known to intentionally incorporate errors into their maps in order to maintain and police copyright. “Easter eggs” are purposefully inserted into government owned maps in order to identify illegal copies. These “Easter eggs” typically take the form of non-existent streets (what some people refer to as “trap streets”). However, this copyright tactic is not exclusive to street maps (or the British government), “Easter eggs” also appear in the form of non-existent parks or even rooms in cases where maps of malls or offices buildings are involved. Trap streets and Easter eggs are often very difficult to find and more difficult to distinguish as a copyright “Easter egg” versus an erratum. Mappers and mapping communities, such as participants on Open Street Map, harness collective intelligence, collaborate, or work individually to find and identify cartographic Easter eggs in commercially available maps. The community also boasts an impressive Catalog of Errors that spans five continents. (Easter eggs are not the only method for copyrighting digital maps. Digital watermarking also occurs on the level of code, often without perceptibly altering the cartographic representation or visualization.)

Another example of creating intentional errors in the name of cartographic control occurred in the United States throughout the 1990s. Until 2000, the Department of Defense scrambled civilian GPS signals in order to deliberately produce errors. This security measure known as “selective availability”  was introduced in order to exclusively reserve precise GPS navigation capabilities for military and authorized personnel. The scrambled signals (though potentially circumvented with the right equipment) were an attempt to thwart terrorist or enemy use of GPS and precise positioning. Civilian signals were generally accurate and widely accessible, but imprecise. During this period of “selective availability” civilian users publicly complained that their GPS lead them astray, that the GPS didn’t recognize or guide them to their desired destination, that the system identified their car as driving on an adjacent road, or caused them to have an accident by providing erroneous directions. (Sound familiar?) Jokes and snarky remarks in newspaper articles, letters to the editor, and online forums were common. Newspaper coverage throughout the decade mockingly reiterated the tale of a proverbial couple that rely too heavily on a faulty GPS and end up in a lake (for one example see: “Global Positioning Maps: Lots of Fun and Glitches” New York Times, March 25, 1997). Although selective availability is long gone, this particular image of the couple driving into a lake remains intact. The Office parody of navigating with and blindly trusting an inaccurate GPS signal is an exaggerated yet relatable experience among GPS users. (Interestingly, this 2007 episode of The Office is referenced in several legal journals regarding GPS-related torts.)

Nicholas de Fer's 1705 map of California as an island (courtesy of raremaps.com)

In other instances, maps have been deemed unintentionally inaccurate in retrospect as new information is discovered about spatial relations, infrastructures, nation-state borders, and as more precise cartographic tools and methods of visualization are developed. If a particular map is not updated to reflect certain geographic information and/or geo-political shifts then the map is guaranteed to have errors. As map use becomes more reliant on digital technologies our maps are bound to have glitches, bugs, and technical difficulties at some point during beta testing or after release.

Many of the complaints about Apple Maps are very similar to complaints during the period of “selective availability.” However, the majority of Apple Map contempt focused on the system’s inconsistent mapping interface (which includes a “pretty but dumb” 3D interface) and faulty conflation between data sources, which apparently produces bizarre errors. Discontent with Apple Maps has highlighted everything from unfortunate events caused by inaccuracies in the system, its hasty release despite developer known “bugs,” the accidental disclosure of a Taiwanese air force base, and the frustration associated with what appears to be a sub-par navigation system.

Apple Maps users have noticed melting bridges, disappearing bodies of water, mysterious parks, bomb-like blasts of light obscuring geographic data and have contributed an interminable amount of snide comments,  sarcastic parodies, and anti-fan videos regarding the provision of faulty directions or inaccurate information. Facetious Twitter feeds even suggested that certain locations had been so devastated and rearranged by Hurricane Sandy that Apple Maps was now actually accurate.

The Apple Maps complaints were much more widespread and prominent than previous reactions to digital mapping incidents, and the tweets and Tumblrs more shaming and vitriolic. There was also a solid consensus among users and critics that something went terribly awry. Although the map was an easy target for criticism, the general vexation seemed to be fueled by issues with the Apple brand rather than the Apple Map. Many tweets and posts implied that commenters were experiencing a sort of schadenfreude – perhaps pleased to see a company built on sleek, streamlined, hip-ness publicly fail? The comments by Phil Schiller disregarding customer input into the design of Apple products, and Chris Stringer’s description of his role as soothsayer of the future of personal computing during the Apple v. Samsung trial emphasized an image of genius innovators creating cult products around a very exclusive kitchen table. Needless to say, the outward disregard for customer desire didn’t really help Apple’s cause. Additionally, Tim Cook’s public apology to Apple customers was widely considered an odd PR move and resulted in at least one executive being dismissed because he refused to sign the public apology. Many people seemed to find comfort in the defense or coping mechanism that “This wouldn’t have happened under Steve Jobs.”

Furthermore, the Apple Maps quagmire deepened the Apple vs. Google rivalry over service provision. Apple Maps signified not only a bold effort to create its own mobile and web-based map application, but also blatantly replaced Google as a service provider within the iOS 6 upgrade. When iPhone customers “upgraded” to iOS 6 they found that the YouTube and Google Maps applications (services owned by Google) disappeared from their dashboards with the latter being replaced by an image for Apple Maps. Apple Maps was one of the first public attempts by the company to own and promote an Apple branded view of the world, this time in a very literal sense. A view of the world that can be monetized as interest in location-based marketing and services persist, and as the mobile market continues to experience what Larissa Hjorth might refer to as the “app-ification” of location. It would be interesting to compare this moment in Apple’s history to other botched attempts and popular reactions to the release of inadequate Apple products. (One could start with this list of Apple fails compiled by The Guardian’s Technology Blog.)

For at least a decade, digital map users have been rewarded with better services for identifying errors in digital maps, for looking carefully and deeply into the interface in order to find something that didn’t quite mesh between physical space and screen, or that was different and unexpected. In the spirit of Geography Awareness Week it might be valuable to move on from the Apple Maps debacle and investigate the rich and complex participatory and popular cultures that have emerged around access to geocoded information, aggregations and visualizations of user-generated geographic data, mashups, high quality geographic images, and technologies that lower the barriers to DIY mapping and platforms for creative expression on the “geoweb.”

Current design trends in digital mapping aim to create immediacy and immersive spatial experiences. Eric Gordon and Adriana de Souza e Silva have suggested that immersive interfaces, such as Google Street View, and the map as database may actually fuel a user’s fascination with the map itself in addition to (or in lieu of) the spaces and places it represents. This fascination with mapping interfaces and representational spaces like Google Street View has manifest in several communities, websites, forums, games, and Twitter accounts focused on showcasing images of the world, identifying errors, highlighting privacy concerns, and locating unexpected encounters within these cartographic worlds. Fans of geographic information, navigation technologies, and DIY video production have remixed, hacked, and parodied these images in creative, time-consuming, and skillful ways. (And these are only a few examples that take place on one platform.) Apple Maps is an interesting case study that sheds light on the industrial logics and expectations of digital maps as well as the Apple brand, but also ripe for analysis are less prominent or less commercial cases of geographic awareness and participation. Digital traces that represent our desire to play with, produce, and poke fun at location, locatability, mobility, and mapping are ubiquitous – and as the Apple Maps case reiterates, particularly where errors are involved.

As can be expected, Topeka is getting some flack from news outlets. But just to be clear, Topeka wasn’t the only city using eye-catching, “creative” tactics to gain Google’s attention. During 2010, a local Madison restaurant began offering a pizza called “the Fibertron” (high fiber and the colors of the Google logo), and a certain university-affiliated creamery started producing Google Fiber “flavored” ice cream with Google colored candy and granola to represent the fibers in the fiber optic cable . . . (ok, insert jokes about Wisconsin and our crazy love of dairy products here). Overall, Google received over 1,000 applications from cities across the US before selecting Kansas City, Kansas as the first (of more?) cities to house Google as a network provider. Though Google has yet to reveal details about the selection process, some people have theories about what may have influenced the company’s decision.

Topeka as well as other out of state contenders like Gainsville, Baltimore, San Luis Obispo, Raleigh, and Chicago are looking on the bright side, sharing a “maybe we could be next” mentality about their loss of the Google bid. Although, while Kansas City receives faster data speeds, millions of dollars in infrastructure investment that’s not pulled solely from public coffers, job creation, and media attention, Topeka, Lawrence, Kansas City, Missouri and other neighboring Great Plains cities should be sharing the spotlight as well. While the developments within Kansas City as a result of the network implementation should be observed, studied, and analyzed (i.e. technological choices for the network; what networked practices, products, and cultures increase or emerge due to service improvements; the role of infrastructure in industry clustering, place promotion, urban experience; the functioning of public/private tech partnerships; the network’s role in ameliorating or augmenting participation gaps and/or digital divides, etc), so should the relationships between Kansas City as a “networked place” and its surroundings. These intra-urban as well as inter-urban and extra-urban developments will be of interest particularly since Kansas City, Kansas (KCK) already takes a back seat to it’s other half, Kansas City, MO in terms of population, education and income levels, institutionalized cultural offerings, and high-tech industry presence.

It’s tempting to read this situation as creating new geographies of inclusion and exclusion, but I think this reading eschews a lot of the complexities that may emerge in coming years. We can already begin to speculate as to whether the innovations in tech production, consumption, and exhibition that emerge in KCK can be shared beyond the privileged boundaries of Google’s robust network due to the lacking network capacity elsewhere. As Antenna’s initial analysis of the 1Gbps network noted, Google’s attention to infrastructure (whether their approaches are deemed successful or not) may have complicated effects on national infrastructure policy and development. I wouldn’t be surprised if the presence of the Google network instilled a reliance on Google products and services, even if solely through brand loyalty and gratitude, if not technologically.

However, the physical inauguration of Google’s “Fiber for Communities Program” is a rich opportunity to study how the designation of experimental places and the politics of media infrastructure, discourse, industry, and use interact locally as well as regionally. It will be interesting to observe how the cascading effects of the Google network (positive, negative, and in between) beyond Kansas City borders actually manifest. It seems that Topeka is already audibly hoping for some “residual effects”, namely in the form of industry overflow and job creation.

In August, I’ll be moving to Lawrence, Kansas (~40 miles west of KCK) and the  practical trickle-down benefits or costs of the Google network will definitely be on my radar, as well as part of my everyday life. However, I’ll be curious to see how, and if, the networking of a city changes the media economies, ecologies, technological development, population and performance of place in surrounding areas as well as within KCK. In some cases, neighboring a more technologically privileged urban center has led to grassroots media developments and experimentation in adjacent “second class cities”, like the comprehensive development of relatively cheap and efficient community wireless networks for example.

In addition to questions about development, other inquiries regarding the particularities of place, geographic and urban network relations can be made, especially since particularities of place influenced Google’s decision to pick KCK. Do we see population shifts, or changes in education levels and income in Kansas City or other cities post-Google network? Can we note the clustering of certain media industries and the exodus of others to neighboring towns? What will the relationship between Google and locally headquartered Sprint look like? Are new urban corridors and hierarchies created? Does Kansas City actually become a prominent node in some sort of global, national, or regional urban network? What happens to the city’s pre-existing relations with other cities? Or, does high speed, privately-initiated infrastructure maintain more than it actually transforms?

This is definitely a rich opportunity to analyze public/private partnerships in innovation, the city as a sandbox for technological experimentation, the effects of high-speed data infrastructures on media practices, industries, education, and urban development among other things. I’d be interested to hear your concerns and questions about Google’s decision, as I’m sure that I’m leaving out many important points of inquiry. But this is also a moment to question through a variety of lenses, what it means to be the neighbor of a networked city.

In this post I wanted to espouse the opposite, to advocate for the opportunities to consume media outdoors, namely for the chance to go to the drive-in movie theater. Most drive-ins maintain the seasonal schedule of being open from Memorial Day to Labor Day (end of May-beginning of September) deeming summer the peak time to attend (at least in Northern and Midwestern US states). While the chance to watch films under the stars can be re-created at home with a white sheet and a projector (as my neighbors and I often do on our shared balcony), in parks, and on rooftops, there’s something unique about going to the drive-in, even on bikes! And it’s not just about the blockbuster doubleheader.

Summer at the drive-in in particular is full of high school kids making out in their parents’ cars, the slight smell of engines, grass (sometimes the naughty kind), sweat, and concession stand purchases. So far this summer, movies like Prince of Persia, Robin Hood, The Karate Kid, Going the Distance, Grown Ups, Shrek: The Final Chapter, and Toy Story 3 are scheduled to dominate the screen. Under recognized is that the drive-in is a great place to catch the films you missed in the first run theaters for a cheaper price. Though very few drive-ins maintain the traditional policy of paying per car rather than per person, nevertheless the cost of a ticket buys you two movies for less than the price of one at a multiplex. Additionally, most of these theaters are independently or family owned enterprises, so supporting these local businesses might not be such a bad thing in and of itself. But if the films and the price don’t tempt you, here’s a few other reasons to go forth and patronize your local (or not so local) drive-in while it’s still around.

To start, you’ll be sitting in a piece of history and a dying breed of theater. Though opportunities to watch movies outdoors have expanded in recent years, the outdoor theater as an institution has decreased. Though there seemed to be a resurgence and rescuing of the drive-in during the early 2000’s, the experience of attending a drive-in (beginning in the 1930s and exploding in the 1950s) is steadily decreasing as these theaters continue to be demolished or close their gates each year. Those that suffer this fate are being replaced by mega stores and multiplexes that can take advantage of the large plots of abandoned turf. There’s an unavoidable nostalgia at the drive-in not only for that particular form of theater and experience of movie-going, but also in the glorification of the automobile, the centrality of the radio (though the oldest theaters exclusively used speakers mounted to poles), and the promotion of the night out at the movies as event.

While for some, taking in two varieties of stars simultaneously – the stars of the screen and the sky – might be magical enough. There’s also something intriguing and ethereal about tuning in your radio receiver to a movie soundtrack that’s only accessible at a boundaried geographic location. Additionally, the drive-in coincides with and complicates the trend of “mobile” media, or the act of taking media outside and consuming it on the go, (at the drive-in you’re away from home, but purposefully stationary in a vehicle made for transit). This type of theater offers the patron a unique sort of shared experience – sitting in individual vehicles and watching a shared movie partially echoes Williams’ mobile privatization in some respects. Yet, however you may theoretically interpret the experience there just aren’t too many places within American society that we leave our house and pay a fee in order to be alone, together.

While watching collectively at an indoor movie theater gains you access to reactions by a crowd of people you don’t actually know (which I admittedly love), the privacy of the car allows you to talk to your companion(s) about what you’re watching and interpersonally react to the scenes on the screen without appearing rude. The semi-private, enclosed space of the car allows you to eat or drink whatever you want as odorous as it may be, let your kid go a little wild, bring your pet, answer a phone call (though I don’t recommend it), or spend quality time with your family or a date (without having to worry as much about PDA etiquette in the latter case).

So check out some tips for first timers, find your screen and hit the road!

GeoAPI’s website boasts services like reverse geocoding (or translating latitude and longitude coordinates into words, like names of towns and intersections), searching for places of interest, mapping and annotation capabilities, and a “writable private layer” that allows tech developers to perform various “geo queries” (ie “which burger joints in Madison, WI has Germaine checked into?”; or “where do all the bike messengers in San Fransisco hang out?”). In short, the product can help locative media developers, and consequently other locative media users, track your whereabouts more efficiently. These services could also be harnessed for place-based recommendation systems, or identifying patterns of activity.  Judging by reactions from competitors, once Twitter fully integrates GeoAPI the locative media industry, and the mobile tweet: “Eating lunch downtown, then going to the movies”, might never be the same again.

Though Twitter has yet to fully integrate GeoAPI or other geocoding software, it might be useful to take a look at the emerging “place race” now, and what some of the major players have to offer. It’s difficult to say exactly how Twitter will further introduce location into it’s service. But judging by the recent merger of mobile social network services and locative media, we might begin to imagine how the combination of 140 characters and “place” might change the way we tweet.

As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I think “where” does matter in social media and everyday life. I’m also very interested to see how developers implement something like GeoAPI, and the information produced and gathered through its various services. However, “where” can definitely be overdone, or done. . . creepy. The flak Google has recently received concerning Google Buzz and privacy issues, might have overshadowed the flak Google is concurrently receiving regarding Google Latitude and privacy issues. Additionally, Foursquare founders were recently prompted to give a public statement in reaction to concerns and controversy surrounding Please Rob Me,  a parody site which re-presents tweets and Foursquare check-ins as evidence that a user is not at home.

While privacy and surveillance have definitely been main concerns, there’s still something completely intriguing about displaying and playing with location, especially the location within which you currently reside. Ads and websites for various locative media services like CitySense, EveryBlock, and Foursquare all emphasize discovery of your neighborhood, your city, and connecting with friends within your hometown. These applications seem to render the city as a layered space full of encounters waiting to be had, hidden treasures, secret hot spots, and “you should have been there” gatherings that even the urban resident needs help finding. In a sense, living like a local merges with seeing like a tourist. Yet, these mobile applications invest the user with an augmented visual capital, and the illusion of an omniscient gaze over the city and its exchanges. By alerting you to the location of your “friends” or other people with similar traits, a suggested route of travel or particular image of the city might be offered — one that extends the way a person is “at home” while moving through urban space.

There’s a further tension between exploration and familiarization in some mobile locative media projects as well. The promotional descriptions and gaming aspects of these projects encourage the user to explore the unfamiliar, but simultaneously reward participants for repetition. In Foursquare for example, points are awarded for traveling across distance, but the status of “mayor” for frequenting the same place over and over again. In either case, there seems to be a promise of comfort through connection. The “ambient awareness” of your position, and other peoples’ position within the city, might not only render urban space more manageable, but keep your social network in tow in a very tangible way. The potential for physical accessibility of your social network, coupled with the “social proprioception” that Clive Thompson notes Twitter has capitalized on already, will deem them leaders of the place race. However, the problem might be that sensing where your social limbs are (especially the ones you connect with on Twitter), is only useful when it’s just a sense.

Speculations contributing to the waning viewership for daytime soaps has been circulating for a while now. Changing societal norms, like the increasing number of women entering the work force, the growing popularity of (coincidentally cheaper) fare such as judge and talk shows, the overall variety of viewer choice, and migration to other media platforms during daytime hours have all been identified as factors effecting “sudsers'” ratings. Though in the case of ATWT, fans of the series have other ideas.

Prior to the series finale of Guiding Light, soaps have made valiant attempts to cut costs and attract audiences. Series have tried to reinvigorate the format by changing shooting techniques (use of hand held digital cameras on ATWT and other programs), incorporating fan produced scripts, or signing Hollywood talent for limited runs.

When Guiding Light was canceled a few months ago, it was replaced with the less costly revival of Let’s Make a Deal. However, the suds, like the characters that populate them, are often resurrected. Following NBC’s cancellation of Passions in 2007, the network went into immediate negotiations of the sale of the show to Direct TV. Although, loyal audience members and casual viewers might be currently mourning the end of the series, judging by past post-cancellation soap deals, the probability of the narrative continuing in some vein on cable, satellite, or online seems relatively high.

In any case, ATWT series finale is approaching, giving the show’s producers about 9 more months to either tie up lose ends, incorporate more cliffhangers, or go out with a bang — which in soap opera terms could be anything from split personalities and incest, to orangutan nurses and killer clones. So, stay tuned for the end, as the world stops turning September 2010.

But with the ever decreasing millions of viewers, the current economy, the viability of soaps on other media platforms, and the increased ratings for the game and talk shows that replace them in their time slots — what does this mean for the future of the daytime soap? And what does it mean for the networks that cut them lose?

Broadcasting from sunrise to sunset

I have to admit, I listen to most of my “radio” online. Be it local community sponsored, pubic radio, college radio, or streaming commercial music stations from around the country, I listen to them all via computer, iPod, etc. However, the car seems to be the one place in which the radio waves, consumed the old fashioned way dominate.

But when my old standards failed me the other day (WSUM, WORT, oldies, and 93.1 Jamz if you’re curious. And yes, I’m one of the few people over the age of 14 that listen to that last station), I switched to the AM mode on my now outdated car radio and found Hit Radio WHIT — “The 50s, the 60s, every song’s a hit on Hit Radio WHIT” out of DeForest, WI. Aside from playing oldies you’d never hear on FM, at least not in Madison, WI anyway, the station only broadcasts from sunrise to sunset! I have yet to hear the sign on, but the experience of hearing a station sign off is actually amazing. As a media studies scholar, I almost feel like it’s blasphemous to say so, but dead air on the radio is fascinating!

At around 4.30pm, aka sunset during winter months, the song “Happy Trails” plays followed by a message from 1550 AM stating something along the lines of: “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, moms and dads; time for us to put the little tiny records in their little tiny beds. Tune in tomorrow. . .” And then dead air for about 2-3 minutes before an interfering signal kills the silence.

The absence of sound on an otherwise continuous stream is a bit jarring at first, but there’s also something almost pleasurable about it. And it’s unlike when your stream is re-buffering or cut out, the intentionality makes the silence completely different. When I thought about it though, it wasn’t the lack of sound, music, talk, coming from the receiver that was peaceful. It was what the silence signified that I appreciated.

Broadcasting from sunrise to sunset, in accordance with the presence of daylight, this is what I think I find attractive. The temporal coincidence of the signing off of a broadcasting station and the end of the day is something we rarely experience anymore. Let alone the day ending when the sun goes down! Both are nostalgic I think. I came across an HBO sign off from the 1980s recently that echoed the coincidence of signals ending when it was time to go to sleep.

Rarely, if at all do I hear aural cues from broadcasters telling listeners to end their day, go to sleep, eat dinner, and put the little tiny records in their little tiny beds. Yes, radio hosts sometimes make reference to morning and evening rush hours, and suppositions about what you might be doing at any given time, and might even beckon you to start and end your day with their station. But the act of starting and ending daylight hours with the start and end of a broadcast signal seems different.

The pleasure didn’t come from the fact that music wasn’t playing or the DJ wasn’t talking. Instead, that in the midst of the 24 hour, just in time labor, often non-local media landscape I often find myself enveloped in, there’s a place on the dial where the broadcasting day ends when the sun goes down. And my sun happens to be going down at the same time.

Have people encountered this part time model of radio broadcasting before? Or is this something exclusive to DeForest, WI?

The site is run by members of the Access to Knowledge community but seems to allow for users to share information about national copyright law on the site once the comments and links are reviewed and approved by the administrators. Copyright Watch seems like it could become a useful resource for gaining an overview of current national IP policies once more information is added to the respective countries. At present, the site reads like a series of Wikipedia stubs but as the project develops hopefully the creators will focus on past law as well as present. Tracing the evolution of “the rules” and linking them to particular temporal, social, technological, and national contexts, which is no doubt equally important to understanding the end point and how we got there.

Though too early to tell, this could be a great resource. Yet, the dealbreaker might actually be the gatekeeping system, who desires to participate, and who actually gets to. In any case, it’s worth watching.