Welcome to Geistlist, a newsletter about Things for People in Places. Inspired by nonsensenyc, shareholder letters, and church bulletins.

¶. Now: Opening of the Beringia land bridge

There's a land bridge open right now from Twitter to Mastodon and a lot of us are having a lot of fun dancing on it. Feels like Twitter in 2010, or blogs in 2005, or borrowing my crush & bus seat partner's iPod Classic in 2005.

Anyone whimpering about how Twitter somehow die overnight is giving Elon Musk the lowest possible bar for success. The most devastated seem the least likely to remember when Twitter was weird and difficult and crashed all the time; when we invented hashtags and retweets and when you couldn't tweet a photo from Twitter.com.

Last week I spent a long night playing Wingspan with old friends who recently became new neighbors¹. It ended in the modern mixtape tradition of starting a communal Spotify playlist, to be fostered over time with our most thoughtful and annoying submissions and played on shuffle when we meet.

I am devastated to find that Spotify does not have about half of the best songs (notably the bonus track Terminals from Relient K’s Forget and Not Slow Down), defending my position that rare media will never die. As distribution approaches the limit of zero friction, there will always be one notch of effort above the default, and that is where obscure media will live, lost media will disembody, and collectors will reanimate.

To this end: a live-action 1995 Halloween special of The Magic School Bus was vaguely remembered by some, but only in 2016 found on a garage sale VHS. Sadly I don’t have the tape, but if you do please bring it tonight to

¶. Tonight 7pm: Open VCR Night of the Living Dead Media

Good morning, this is Geistlist: the aperiodical about time & spaces to be, compiled without schedule by Jacob Ford, for you.

I write from a suitcase-propped iPad on an uptown E train slouching toward JFK, where an AirBus 5 years and a week from its first flight is currently being refueled. It’s taking me most of the way to a former church where the organ pipes have been replaced by server racks: the Internet Archive. They run WayBackMachine, patron saint of deleted tweets.

The Archive is hosting the Library Leaders Forum, where through a butterfly’s flap of chaotic coincidences, I am presenting a little prototype of something I helped build called BRIET, named after Suzanne. Named by Paul Ford.

Led fearlessly by Maria Bustillos, David Moore, aforementioned Paul, and Brewster Kahle, BRIET’s mission is to convince authors they can sell and libraries they can buy—not license à la OverDrive or Kindle but actually good old-fashioned for-keeps sell and buy—digital books. You can borrow a one I designed now, which the Internet Archive bought from us for a $30 check, just as your library buys printed books. If someone else is reading it, wait an hour and it’s yours.

On August 26, 2012 I drove to Manhattan for the first time without a planned ride home. In my new backyard (Washington Square Park) I introduced myself to Colin Huggins at 8:53am, and at 11:36pm came back to find a cellist playing by moonlight in the middle of the park fountain platform six inches above the waterline, the jetstream for the night turned off.

August 27, 2012 was rainy. I skipped some NYU orientation events to watch a filmshoot, walked to Madison Square Park, and bought my first groceries at the Union Square Whole Foods and carried them home. It (the Whole Foods) is (last I checked) still the midst of an oddly ever-coming-soon renovation and now a miniature Amazon Fulfillment Center, but¹ still has an escalator exclusively for shopping carts and will not be truly dead to me until that’s gone. However the smoke which used to bellow from the hole in Metronome has stopped bellowing, and Metronome‘s periodicity has changed from 48 hours to 1 geological era. It’s the second time it’s been reprogrammed, the first being to New York’s successful bid to not host the Olympics.

I have it on the advice of my mentor and at least three other strangers I’ve asked at bars in the intervening decade that I may call myself a New Yorker with no reasonable objection starting tomorrow.

¶. Every Last Monday: Open VCR Night

Mmuseumm is an unnatural history museum in a former freight elevator shaft. There is a small screen embedded in one of the gallery shelves which plays a loop of videos related to the current exhibitions. Sometimes we add additional footage which acts as artifact itself: video proof of the world’s casual strangeness. The familiar doing the unfamiliar, the unfamiliar doing the familiar.

You are reading Geistlist,
a chronoillogical newsletter
about Things for People by Jacob.

In an early Mmuseumm season around 2014 or ’15—before my involvement—one of the videos was a comedian breaking down on stage. I remember trying for months to identify the footage but never could muster the right search terms. This year, for whatever indexing/language processing/algorithmic reason, it was easy.

When I first saw & met Nathan Repasz a year ago in a friend’s dog’s backyard the memory of the video of Andy came instantly back to me. We have become high-ranking close friends (Nathan and I): he later played my mythical-status 27th birthday, I am designing him a very strange website, and together we are trying to coin linguo-percussive situationism. Hopefully I know what it means once I finally finish The Order of the Third Bird and figure out what’s real.

Been thinking about Scenes¹: the kind you read of your dead art heroes being part of. What sound like casual encounters, fights, hookups, arguments, lectures, and readings in basements and lofts, now imbued with historical weight and teleological surety.

¹ Synonymous to/newly christened vibe shifts?

Friday: in New Canaan I saw a photo of Philip Johnson and David Whitney jumping in their bed (though David did tend to sleep in the Brick House while Philip took the Glass House—they mirror each other, if the mirror had a ⅔ reduction lens), and Andy Warhol was just…there, if you look carefully by a nightstand, being background not foreground.

Sunday: finally got to catch up with my local historian hero and neighbor Ada Calhoun at a book launch event for Also A Poet, which is all about Scenes: documenting them, missing them, growing up with/in them, and confronting your dad for being more invested in them than he seemed interested in you.

Three consecutive days of culturally noncontiguous events this week. So happens they’re all at the City Reliquary where I serve on the board, starting tomorrow evening with the closing party for my proud little exhibition.

¶. Tomorrow 6–10pm: BIRD SHOW Closing

Taxonified incorrectly as science fair, fairly as art show but most specifically as nature exhibition, BIRD SHOW looks at people watching birds, and the birds staring back.

This is its final week, before it makes way for Wonder Woman and her myriad NYC connections.

We at the Brick House Cooperative proudly today revealed my redesign of thebrick.house front page: a triptych folding-grid apparatus with a lot of weird stretchy layout logic, inspired by deconstructed old Scribner’s front cover with two later additions McMansioned onto it.

Speaking of good writing floating in just the right unadvertised corners of the internet, I read a really wonderful ¶ written by Adlan. It’s the first one: How to Party with Garret Mukai.

When I design image-heavy layouts I often make use random-image placeholder services like placekitten.com to test image cropping out, but now in this polyptych research rabbit hole I instead want one that serves up a random @BoschBot. Maybe I’ll code that, probably I won’t. Thing’s like the Infinite Jest of medieval paintings: the feet have feet.

One of my prepandemic well-publicized secrets was to force myself up on a bike to MoMA by 7:00am on first Wednesdays. The museum had a monthly early-morning yoga thing in the lobby atrium there that attracted a lot of yoga-type people but I would skip right past that to the fifth floor and have Starry Night all to myself in an empty gallery it seemed nobody else knew was opening during the big-name-yogi yoga.

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¶. Open VCR Night

Monday 7-9pm at Wonderville in Brooklyn.

1. BYO VHS
2. Anyone can eject at any time.
3. If you eject, you must insert table.

BIRD SHOW is a museum exhibition curated by Jacob Ford.

flight paths of birds, people, and bird people in the city

It opens Friday evening, and I hope to see you there.

I am curating a museum exhibition.

BIRD SHOW
flight paths of birds, people, and bird people in the city
at the City Reliquary in Brooklyn
March – Julyish 2022
curated by Jacob Ford

As in, frantically curating right now, as I type. Figuring it all out as I hang but here’s what I know and what you can etch in your calendar:

BIRD SHOW Opening Party
March 18, 6 – 10pm
370 Metropolitan Ave.
Free

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For People about Things.
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¶. Millennial/Boomer Drinking Club

Reading this right now and in NYC? Just us in an hour at Lynn's place..
Reading this right now and not in NYC? Watch my crappy stream
Not reading this right now? Watch my crappy rerun

¶. Book

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Psueoperiodical newsletter.
About Things.
For People.
By Jacob.
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¶. Buy This Book

Two installments ago I told you about a PDF I designed which we sold a the Internet Archive for $32. Now it’s time to sell it to you, as a 222-page printed book, for the same price. That’s kind of the point.

Buy it on Kickstarter.
Read about it on The Nation.
Read it for free on the Open Library.
See it spin on the Brick House front page.

Spent my last week biking rapid tests to bartenders, baristas, performers, and other friends so they could get some peace of mind (or make an informed decision) before heading to family or whatever.

Unfortunately had to break a few laws to do that. Long story. If you’ve had a drink with me in the past 11 months, I’m sure I’ve ranted it to you.

Anyway, remember kids:

1. You can’t spread COVID (masked or not) if you don’t have COVID.
2. Negative antigen test = you’re noninfectious to others at that moment (this is possible even if you are infected with low titers, which a PCR would pick up).
3. Positive antigen test = you can spread COVID (masked or not).

Hi everyone.

Thinking about the time I was stuck in a very slow-moving elevator with Casey Neistat, discussing for 4 minutes the difference between 6:00pm and 6:05pm. Because is there one, really, like, culturally and ethnographically speaking? Casey won.

This is Geistlist. It is a semi-secret mostly infrequent newsletter about things I do, for people I know. I'm Jacob Ford. You're receiving this because I've met you and think you're interesting. Here's hoping you do too.

¶ Like 3 months ago: we sold a book to the Internet Archive

Hi friends, Jacob here.

This is my quite informal newsletter of life and life-adjacent updates which until very recently was just a bunch of emails copypasta’d into Gmail’s BCC field. Now, it’s an all growed up text-only newsletter, mostly CANSPAM compliant and all.

It’s called Geistlist, and you’re on it.

I’m cohosting the inaugural Brooklyn Eyelympics tonight, a tournament-style staring contest with live commentary from the sports desk of local drag queens Misty Meaner & Mocha Lite.

7pm in the City Reliquary backyard $15 at the door Free for Reliquary members Competitor signup ends at at 7:30pm.

All are welcome to compete. Bribery of referees will be overlooked.

You've received this email because you are on Geistlist, a secret newsletter written aperiodically by Jacob Ford, about things and sent to people. If you do not want to be on Geistlist you can unsubscribe below.

On Friday, June 25, Jacob Ford will celebrate his 27th birthday at The City Reliquary in Brooklyn, New York.

You are invited.

The theme is The Museum of Jacob Ford.

Hi friends.

Jacob Ford here. We’ve met at some point and I think you’re interesting, and somehow I got your email. That’s how you’re on this secret by-invitation-only email list.

It’s now outgrown the homely BCC field to become an actual bona fide newsletter with a CANSPAM Act-compliant unsubscribe link down there at the bottom. Powered by my friend Justin at Buttondown. But I assure you: this list is still highly exclusive, extremely underground, and very cool.

Right now I’m trying to save a tiny museum.