The People of the City

The DreamIt/Startl accelerator started today in Manhattan. I flew in from Las Vegas and
arrived here in New York at 4:30. I dreamt of Rusko spinning dub step at The Palms
and Bauman’s rare book store – two experiences I had that have only fueled my vision
of the future of books.

If you haven’t heard dub-step then you’re missing out on some completely ballistic
sounding transmogrification of songs that MAYBE you know. For instance:

I was fascinated by this phenomenon in relation to the newquill project because
it showed me another example of people really tripping out (in a good way) over
transformation. Transformers. Hulk. Teen Wolf. Dub-step.


The users of newquill will use books like vinyl – the app will be their turntable deck.
The published result will be a remix. They will astound and thrill their audiences through
connection and creation. Every author will, actually, be a DJ.

The next flash bulb came at Bauman’s absurdly high priced rare bookstore at The
Palazzo. I was looking at a $3,200 copy of “The Razor’s Edge” and smirking to myself.
They also had a $40,000 version of Shakespeare’s “All’s Well That Ends Well.” That just
made me shake my head.

“People desperately want their books to be alive,” I thought. newquill will not cost them
thousands of dollars – and it definitely won’t have that nostalgic smell. But it will bring
every book to life. And it will give every reader the ability to become an author.

We all have such monumental potential in us. Every day I went into the classroom
teach, I would find myself marveling at the power that surrounded me. newquill will
unleash that power.

The people of New York sharing the F train with me this morning inspired this poem.
Every person is a singer. Every person is alive. Every person is a harbinger of light.
Every person is a reader. Every person is a writer.

The people of the city are awake.

They sing in languages
that do not snore.
Their bags bulge brawny
for the day is in them.
They are born blinking
without a cup of coffee.
They read the daily signs
so that they never set.
They publish themselves
with smiles and swaggers.

The people of the city are awake.
Yet still, somehow, they dream.

I am now a person of the city.

This is my dream.


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