I was reading a post somewhere about Twitter, followed a few links, saw articles about it being a growing social network phenomenon … the usual malarkey about “the next big thing.”
Of course, I had to check it out.
Mistake.
Having registered and so on, I foolishly said, “Yes, check my email for contacts on Twitter.” The end result was, thinking I was adding contacts who might be on Twitter or, in the future, could be on Twitter, I wasn’t told that I’d be sending an email to all of them. So I ended up spamming a bunch of people.
As for Twitter (other than that), I haven’t really looked at it much but from what I can see it’s a bit like Facebook in that it seems designed for bored people with small amounts of time.
Blog posts have generally been short, and much of the Internet is about brevity, but I really think we’re moving toward the ridiculous with some of the most recent social networking tools. They seem primarily designed as platforms for marketers who can possibly grab the fleeting attention of people trolling the Internet looking for something, anything, that might be briefly interesting, even if in a facile fashion. But the tools (networks) seem more than a little superficial.
As I’ve said before, regarding Facebook, it’s primary value seems to be in the contacts you find and maintain. But what we do with those contacts, at least on the platforms themselves, seems mainly frivolous.
Or maybe I’m just cranky because I ended up spamming people.
I’ve finally finished reading Carl Wilson’s “Let’s Talk About Love: A Journey to the end of Taste” (link on the right) and it’s the best book about music I’ve read in years (not that I’ve read a lot … but more about that later). Although the book uses Celine Dion and her 1997 release, “Let’s Talk About Love,” it’s not about her. It’s about aesthetics. Musical taste. What do our likes and (perhaps more importantly) our dislikes say about us?
Wilson is a music critic (The Globe and Mail) and he doesn’t particularly care for Celine Dion. However, millions throughout the world do. So he decides to examine that gap and understand it. And he covers a lot of ground, a lot. He also makes quite a few interesting points.
One he makes is that as things are now, the only kind of music anyone has to apologize for is mainstream, and I think that’s true. Everyone knows you have to have quirky tastes now. At the very least, they can’t run the middle-ground.
He also comments that music such as death metal could be described as hyper-masculine music. So couldn’t Celine’s music be described as hyper-feminine? And if so, why does one get currency but the other is supposed to be something to be ashamed of?
However, the two most interesting aspects of his book, for me, were his discussion of Celine as French, being a Québécois artist, and how Anglo North America may not be able to quite process that. From our perspective, the point of entry is on a bit of an angle. We’re not quite sure how to view her, other than strange. I would add I think with Dion it’s not just that but her rural, large family roots that make her what she is. Although she sings in English, her sensibility is more Québécois/rural/European, hence the large gestures and the sentimental qualities. As far as I know, we’re the only ones embarrassed and apologetic for that sort of thing.
The other aspect I found interesting is the discussing of the cultural and social aspects of what we do and don’t like and how, to a great degree, it ends up being a class thing. “I’m better than you because I listen to the right music; you’re beneath me because you listen to that schmaltz.”
There’s also a fascinating history of schmaltz in the book.
Either way, the book is well worth reading. I particularly like that it isn’t dogmatic at all. It simply questions all those things we never question.
I should also say, it struck me as odd that Carl Wilson write and release this book now. Before I was aware of the book, I had started on my own exploration of Celine. I had read some comments online where someone was ranting about how much they hated her and that she should cut her son’s hair because it was too long. And I wondered, what’s her son’s hair got to do anything? Why are you even making a comment like that?
And although I, too, had a default, “Oh, I don’t like Celine Dion” position, I was aware I had never actually taken the time to really listen to her. I wondered if I had confused an excess of hype with the quality of the music.
As it turns out, I actually like Celine Dion. At least, her latest disc “Taking Chances” and her latest French language disc, “D’Elles.” There may be the odd time when they go a bit over the top, but I can live with that.
Hopefully, I’ll write something more later about how the discs are not really about Celine but about teams and producers. (And I don’t mean that as a slag.)
It seemed to take forever for the world of marketing to discover there was an Internet and that a lot of people were to be found there. But discover it they did, finally. And as anyone who has used the Internet over the last few years knows, they’re doing their best to kill this golden goose.
Soon the Web will go the way of traditional TV: the trash heap.
Although it seemed the Web was best leveraged by working with users, understanding who your audience was and doing your best to provide it – creating a relationship, in other words – and by marketing your wares in a more restrained, even subtle, fashion, marketers seem incapable of thinking that way.
The traditional advertising mindset still rules and thus we’re now being assailed with in-your-face, irritating crap. Interruptive advertising.
Of course, advertising and marketing are not the same thing but, often, they are – at least when idiots run the marketing department.
I am getting so tired of sites that clog as they load because so much ad rubbish is being simultaneously loaded, so tired of “cute” video and flash interruptions, and so tired of the ever popular music and/or sound effects that play as I surf from site to site, I’m about ready to toss my laptop out the window. I’ve lost track of the number of sites I use to go to that I no longer visit simply because of the endless irritations.
And then there was the Facebook fiasco where some moron thought it would be a cool idea to invade individual privacy and use the site and it’s data in Big Brother fashion. And back in September there was another weaselly use of personal info by Quechup. In both cases the real issue was not asking for permission.
At the same time that we have an increasing use of interruptive advertising and more incidents of misuse of personal data we also have fluff going and growing big time, the best examples being YouTube and Facebook. While there is definite value to both, they are overwhelmingly about brief, slight diversions. Both are designed for people in cubicles who are bored mindless during yet another endless teleconference. They’re about having maybe five minutes to break up the tedium. There is very little that is substantive to either and, let’s be honest, nothing of substance would fly on either, at least in the majority of cases.
I wouldn’t have a problem with this – the Internet has been filled to bursting from the beginning with the irrelevant and superficial. But so much marketing is tied to it now, so many big companies are throwing their all into developing more of these fluff machines, and with such an increase in annoying ads and the numerous personal data issues that keep cropping up, it strikes me that the Web is killing itself.
That may be an extreme response but I don’t think so. And I don’t think the end of the Web would be an “end” as we usually think of ends. The value of the Web is obvious: information and connections and user control. So something else would replace it. And no, I’ve no idea what that would be.
But as user control makes its inglorious exit from the Web and as corporations and their marketing departments do their damnedest to turn it into traditional TV, the Web is less and less a place to be hanging out.
This actually goes along with a long held theory of mine. When something goes mainstream, it’s usually dead or in its death throes. It’s only while it’s on the fringes, of no interest yet to the majority, that it is alive and vital.
I just wonder what the next vital and exciting thing will be. And whether I’ll be bright enough to recognize it.
I actually think I am not nearly as proud of what I’ve written as I am in the fact that I’ve always insisted on being paid and being paid well. What I like most about this wonderfully articulate argument by Harlan Ellison is how he nails on the head one of the biggest problems writers deal with: idiots who give their work away for nothing. Listen to Harlan. And for the love of God, insist on being paid. Don’t make them show you the money, make them give it to you!
Like Harlan, nothing pisses me off more than people giving away their work for nothing. That is not the way to get your foot in the door unless the door you’re trying to enter is marked, “Poverty.”
Geez … It’s November 1, the day is almost half over in my part of the world and I have yet to begin on my 50,000 words for National Novel Writing Month (which I said I would do, fool that I am).
Actually, I don’t find the writing daunting. I will, but not yet. No, my stumbling block is where to start. I’ve made an effort not to plan anything, not to research anything, to just start and see where it takes me (and what pops up along the way).
But getting it started … I actually work best when I’m given something arbitrary, like those exercises where they provide you with a first sentence or a title and regardless of what you write, it has to be used. I tend to be most creative then.
But yada yada, and all that. I can’t be writing this when I have at least 2,000 words about something, Lord knows what, yet to write.
One of the things I’ve noticed about my writing, one I find really annoying and you’ve probably also noticed it, that’s if you’ve read many of my posts or if you’ve read other things I may have written (and yes, I’ve written quite a few things), is my propensity to pepper what I write with clauses.
I remove them when I rewrite. However, I don’t always have time to rewrite or, if it’s a casual post like this one, while I may have the time, I may not have the inclination.
The first sentence of this post probably should have read, “I write too many clauses.”
The cause of this clause failing likely resides in my thought process. I know what I want to say (”I write too many clauses”) but, while I know that’s my point, there are subordinate thoughts, related ones, popping into my head and part of me tries to capture them before they are forgotten and lost. That part of me litters my writing with clauses.
I’m not alone in doing this. Others do it as well. However, more often I find what many writers do is something related: Pile up a whole whack of words in sentences and paragraphs before they get to the one sentence that is their point and the primary reason someone would want to read what they
have written. I believe in journalism they call this burying the lede. (Also known as burying the lead. Lede is a traditional spelling.)
And my point? Whether in a story, article, paragraph or, as in my case, a sentence, we should all stop doing this. It annoys me and, more importantly, it is tedious for readers to have to plow through all those words to get to the point.
It’s been a while since I’ve read something by Doris Lessing but some time back (1970’s and 1980’s?) I read quite a bit. She was and still is a favourite writer for me. So I was quite happy to see she’s received the Nobel prize for literature.
Let’s see … I’ve read The Golden Notebook (that might have been the first thing of hers I read). And the Children of Violence series of novels (Martha Quest, etc.). And her science fiction series, Canopus in Argos.
She’s often spoken of in feminist terms but I can’t say I’ve ever really thought of her that way. It seems a pretty limiting label and not necessarily an accurate on. I think I see her more as someone who a) writes good stories and, b) is very observant and critical of human behavior which, of necessity, involves the genders.
Maybe it’s time I read something new by her, or re-read some of those books I liked so much the first time …
Yes, another complaint … I’m looking at a schedule for the Edmonton Oilers to see what games are televised and what channels they are on. And I’m seeing acronyms left and right.
Fine. I understand why they are using acronyms. Full names, like Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, take up too much space. Much cleaner to simply have CBC. Of course, someone has to know that CBC means Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, or that RSW means Rogers Sportsnet West to know what the acronyms stand for. (And who calls it Rogers Sportsnet West? It’s referred to simply as Sportsnet or Sportsnet West, so RSW isn’t immediately intuitive.)
So I’m looking at this schedule and I can figure out some of the acronyms. Eventually. But what about CSP, OPPV, FSD, and FSNO? What on earth do those refer to?
Now the substance of my complaint … Yes, I understand why the acronyms are used. What I don’t understand is the absence of a table explaining what they stand for or, if one exists, why it is so hard to find.
The assumption here is that, if you’re into sports, of course you know what the acronyms represent. But the assumption should be, of course you have no idea what they represent. It’s silly to expect you would.
The world is full of assumptions like this. “In my world, we all use this specialized talk populated with terminology and acronyms we use all the time. Doesn’t everyone?”
No. Everyone does not. Please, please, please … Let’s all quit assuming we can assume others understand our particular world’s lingo. It’s much more efficient, much more cost effective, and it reduces crankiness marvelously.
(And a much easier to understand Oilers’ schedule is available here.)
There is no such thing as nonfiction. There is no such thing as truth. People who really know what happened aren’t talking. And the people who don’t have a clue, you can’t shut them up.
Have I lost all sense? Probably. But despite logic, history, and common sense, I signed up for NaNoWriMo. What’s that? Well, it’s an acronym of sorts for National Novel Writing Month. And, you repeat, what is that? Well, according to their about page:
“National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30.”
I find it intriguing. Challenging. I give myself a snowball’s chance in a microwave to get it finished, but … who knows? I may surprise myself. I find it attractive because of the approach. In the past, I’ve been so anal about detail and plotting and other niggling things, I’ve rarely finished. So I like the idea of just writing and seeing what shows up. If it’s crap, so be it.
I think if you finish, even if it is crap, the editor in a writer can then come out and fix the damn thing.
Well, whatever happens, I’ve tossed my hat in and I’ll give it a go starting November 1. We’ll see what happens then.
(By the way, I’ve found the NaNoWriMo site to be very sluggish so patience will be a virtue if you plan on checking it out.)
Listen to this podcast
Geez … It’s November 1, the day is almost half over in my part of the world and I have yet to begin on my 50,000 words for National Novel Writing Month (which 
It’s been a while since I’ve read something by 
Writelife
