We realize we’ve been conspicuously absent the past few days. As you can imagine, we’ve been overwhelmed by the degree of the enthusiasm about Diaspora, and we wanted to wait a few days to to let the craziness settle down. Over 4600 people care enough about Diaspora’s goals and have enough confidence in us to sign up for Kickstarter and back us. Now that we have much more money than we asked for, our situation has changed a little.
Our basic plan is the same: we’re going to build a great lightweight decentralized social networking framework and release it as AGPL software. We’re going to use the extra money to help us reach that goal and to keep improving Diaspora after this summer, and possibly supplement our ramen with the occasional apple. :)
In addition to money, a massive number of talented and experienced people, including developers, designers, hosting companies and lawyers, have offered us their expertise. Though we haven’t responded to the deluge of emails, we have read them all. We’re still working through the backlog and are putting together a great group of advisors.
We’re also getting in touch with other projects in the space. We had a great talk with the guys behind Ostatus earlier this week, and we are excited to implement the Ostatus standards.
As always, we couldn’t have made it this far without all of our incredible supporters. It heartens us to know that so many people share our concern for privacy online and we are doing our best to make sure Diaspora turns out awesome.
The opening track on Jackson C. Frank’s Paul Simon-produced debut album is the kind of tune all singer/songwriters wish they had written. Once covered by Simon himself (with Garfunkel!), Bert Jansch, and Nick Drake, “Blues Run the Game” is one of the greatest folk/blues songs of all time and, undoubtedly, the high-water mark on Frank’s legacy.
I don’t foresee it ever happening, but if anyone decides to make a biopic about this man, they’d have plenty of material. Frank’s life was fraught with tragedy, from being severely burned in an accident that left over a dozen of his classmates dead at the age of 11 to being blinded by random gunfire in New York later in his life, the guy was relentlessly stalked by the blues. An intensely shy performer, Frank fought depression, schizophrenia, and career woes until his early death at 56. Sadly, the refrain of a song he wrote at only 22 could be a theme for Frank’s entire life: “Wherever I have played / The blues have run the game.”