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livefromthenypl:

“In Los Angeles in the early 1950s, Ray Bradbury went in search of a peaceful place to work. ‘I had a large family at home,’ he said five decades later. They must have been a particularly lively bunch, because at the time it was just Ray, his wife Marguerite and two young children.
The writing refuge Bradbury found was in the basement of the Lawrence Clark Powell Library at UCLA — and in fact, it wasn’t all that quiet. ‘I heard this typing,’ he explained. ‘I went down in the basement of the UCLA library and by God there was a room with 12 typewriters in it that you could rent for 10 cents a half-hour. And there were eight or nine students in there working away like crazy.’
So he went to the bank and returned with a bag of dimes. He plugged a dime into the machine, typed fast for 30 minutes, and then dropped another. When he took breaks, he went upstairs to the library, soaking in a book-loving ambience he was making forbidden in the fiction he was writing below. He took books off the shelves, finding quotes, then ran downstairs to write some more.  Nine days — and $9.80 in dimes later — he’d written ‘Fahrenheit 451.’ Almost.
What he’d finished there was ‘The Fireman,’ a short story published in Galaxy magazine in 1951. Later, he expanded the story into ‘Fahrenheit 451,’ which was published in paperback by Ballantine.”
—“Ray Bradbury and the dime-at-a-time typewriter of ‘Fahrenheit 451’”

livefromthenypl:

In Los Angeles in the early 1950s, Ray Bradbury went in search of a peaceful place to work. ‘I had a large family at home,’ he said five decades later. They must have been a particularly lively bunch, because at the time it was just Ray, his wife Marguerite and two young children.

The writing refuge Bradbury found was in the basement of the Lawrence Clark Powell Library at UCLA — and in fact, it wasn’t all that quiet. ‘I heard this typing,’ he explained. ‘I went down in the basement of the UCLA library and by God there was a room with 12 typewriters in it that you could rent for 10 cents a half-hour. And there were eight or nine students in there working away like crazy.’

So he went to the bank and returned with a bag of dimes. He plugged a dime into the machine, typed fast for 30 minutes, and then dropped another. When he took breaks, he went upstairs to the library, soaking in a book-loving ambience he was making forbidden in the fiction he was writing below. He took books off the shelves, finding quotes, then ran downstairs to write some more.  Nine days — and $9.80 in dimes later — he’d written ‘Fahrenheit 451.’ Almost.

What he’d finished there was ‘The Fireman,’ a short story published in Galaxy magazine in 1951. Later, he expanded the story into ‘Fahrenheit 451,’ which was published in paperback by Ballantine.”

“Ray Bradbury and the dime-at-a-time typewriter of ‘Fahrenheit 451’”

Google developer creates a new error message for websites to shine light on censorship
Earlier this month Google developer advocate Tim Bray proposed a new HTTP Error status code aimed at shining a light on web censorship.
Bray’s new Error 451 would work somewhat like the Error 404 pages you’ve probably seen. But instead of telling you that the page could not be found, an Error 451 response would let you know that the page you were looking for had been censored.
(via Error 451: This Page Has Been Burned | Webmonkey | Wired.com)

Google developer creates a new error message for websites to shine light on censorship

Earlier this month Google developer advocate Tim Bray proposed a new HTTP Error status code aimed at shining a light on web censorship.

Bray’s new Error 451 would work somewhat like the Error 404 pages you’ve probably seen. But instead of telling you that the page could not be found, an Error 451 response would let you know that the page you were looking for had been censored.

(via Error 451: This Page Has Been Burned | Webmonkey | Wired.com)

…Fall is ever the normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars. They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth….Such are the autumn people.
Ray Bradbury  (via talkativolive)